LiBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



-B8 7 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL 



BY 



PHILLIPS BROOKS 



LATE BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS 




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NEW YORK 

E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 

31 West Twenty-third Street 

1893 



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Copyright, 1893, 
By E. p. DUTTOX & CO. 

AU rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., T7. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. 



1 



PKEFACE. 



These letters of travel of the late Bishop Brooks 
have been selected from his correspondence with mem- 
bers of his family. They relate to two journeys, of 
more than a year in duration, taken in 1865-66 and in 
1882-83 respectively, — the former when he was Eec- 
tor of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, 
the latter when he was Rector of Trinity Church, 
Boston, — and to shorter summer trips, generally of 
about three months in duration. The circumstances 
under which they were written are sufficiently evident 
from the letters, and call for little comment. 

Several of these series of letters Bishop Brooks 
regarded in the light of a record of his travels and 
experiences, and after his return reclaimed them, and 
found frequent enjoyment in the reminiscences of his 
journeys which they awakened. 

Further details of these same journeys and other 
letters relating to them will appear in the forthcoming 
Life of Bishop Brooks. But before that is given to 
the public, it seemed possible and desirable to put in 
shape these letters of travel, which give an important 
chapter of his life that was always of the greatest 



IV PREFACE. 

delight to him, and in which are represented many of 
his most striking personal characteristics. 

An interesting journey taken in 1887, which in- 
cluded his attendance at the Queen's Jubilee Service 
and his last meeting with Robert Browning and Mat- 
thew Arnold, as well as his second visit to Tenny- 
son, is unmentioned, for the reason that he was accom- 
panied on that journey by members of his family to 
whom the writing of those letters which should con- 
tain the continuous record of the summer was commit- 
ted. For the same reason, one letter alone appears 
in this collection to represent a journey made in 1890, 
when, in addition to a trip to Switzerland, he visited 
parts of England including Cornwall and Devonshire, 
which are associated with Kingsley's Westward Ho ! 
and also Andover, the name of which is so closely con- 
nected with the life of the Phillips family in America. 

The letters retain the familiar character which be- 
longed to them as being intended for the members of 
his own family. It will be seen that in no other form 
could they have been given to the public, and they ai;e 
thus enabled to convey not only an interesting story of 
travel, but also something of that personal charm and 
ready wit and genial appreciation which those who 
were nearest to him loved so well. His warm remem- 
brance of friends from whom he was absent will be 
evident in all these letters, and his nature will be seen 
in its sunniest and most playful mood. 

October, 1893. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

FiKST Journey Abroad, 1865-1866 1 

In the Tyrol and Switzerland, 1870 139 

Summer in Northern Europe, 1872 154 

From London to Venice, 1874 172 

England and the Continent, 1877 181 

In Paris, England, Scotland, and Ireland, 1880 . . 187 
A Year in Europe and India, 1882-1883 . . . .191 

England and Europe, 1885 325 

Across the Continent to San Francisco, 1886 . . 343 

A Summer in Japan, 1889 355 

Summer of 1890 374 

Last Journey Abroad 376 



LETTERS OF TRAVEL. 



FIRST JOUENEY ABROAD. 

1865-1866. 

Steamer Scotia, 
Monday p. m., August 14, 1865. 

Dear Mother, — My first letter from abroad 
shall be to you. It wiU not be mucli of a letter, for 
nobody feels like doing anything on shipboard, and 
especially this afternoon, when the ship is rolling 
worse than it has yet. We have had a splendid 
passage so far ; I have not been seasick for a moment 
since I came on board, and we are now more than half- 
way across. Father and William gave you my biogra- 
phy up to the moment of sailing. They came pretty 
near having to go to Europe themselves. The first 
days out were very smooth, and we were well used to 
the motion of the vessel before the rough sea began. 
There has been considerable seasickness aboard. 

We spend almost all the time on deck. I have 
scarcely been below except for meals and sleep. It is 
the nicest, laziest, and pleasantest life in the world. 
We breakfast at 8.30, lunch at 12, dine at 6, and 
sup at 7.30. There is the funniest collection of 
people here : English, French, Germans, Portugaiese, 
Jews, and Secessionists ; lots of Southern people going 



2 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

to foreign parts to hide tjigir sTiamp. I have made 
some very pleasant friends, especially a nice English 
family, whose son has been in our army. They live 
in Cheltenham, England, and have invited me to 
visit them. 

We had service yesterday ; the Captain (Judkins) 
read service and a sermon. It was quite interesting. 
I thought of you all at home, and felt that you were 
praying for us. It is hard to count these things, 
though, for we have gained already two hours on you, 
and are getting farther and farther to the eastward 
all the time. We have not had the sensation of dan- 
ger yet, except the last two nights, when it has been 
very foggy, and we have run along blowing our 
whistle almost all the time, not knowing what ship or 
iceberg we might run into any minute. As yet all 
is safe. 

It is wonderful how fast the time goes here. The 
days have not dragged at all, though there is next to 
nothing to do. We read a little, and walk the decks, 
and look for ships, and the hours slip by delightfully. 
Father told you, I suppose, that the Langs were on 
board. I am burnt up as brown as a berry, and 
never was so well in my life. It is a splendid begin- 
ning of my tour. 

How I would like to look in on you at home, or 
rather how I would like to have you all here ! You 
would enjoy it intensely. It would not be so agree- 
able if one were sick, but everybody says the voyage 
has been most remarkable. 

I leave the next page to be filled up between here 
and Queenstown. 



DUBLIN. 3 

Wednesday Morning-, August 16. 

It is still beautiful and delightful. Just a week 
since we sailed, and the most splendid week I ever 
passed. Last night on deck, with a high wind, clear 
starlight overhead, and the phosphorescent water 
below, was glorious ! I shall be almost sorry to land, 
except for the nights, which are very disagreeable in 
these miserable little berths. My room-mate is an 
Englishman, just returning from a tour around the 
world. He is intelligent and civil, but I see very 
little of him. They say we shall be in at Queens- 
town on Thursday night. I will mail this on board 
to-morrow, and then write again to you from Dublin. 

Thursday Morning, August 17. 

All has gone well, and we shall come ujDon the 
coast of Ireland to-night. To-morrow morning I go 
from Cork to Dublin, where I shall stay till over 
Sunday. Perhaps this letter will reach you a little 
earlier by being mailed on board, so I will close it here. 
You may consider our voyage as prosperously over, 
and me as safely into the Old World. No stranger 
ever got into it easier. When I write again, there 
will be more incidents to record. Now I only ask 
you to thank God with me for my safe voyage. Give 
lots of love to all the household, beginning with father 
and going down to Trip. How I shall depend upon 
your letters at London. 

Your loving son, Phillips. 

Gresham Hotel, Sackville Street, Dublin, 

Friday Evening, August 18, 1865. 

Dear William,^— Safe in Dublin. Is n't it funny? 
The Scotia arrived at Queenstown at four this morn- 

1 His brother, William G. Brooks. 



4 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

ing, and we at once went ashore. I breakfasted at 
Queenstown, and then took the train for Cork, where 
I spent three hours wandering up and down the queer- 
est city that was ever made. It is one universal Sea 
Street and Fort Hill. The source whence all the Bid- 
dies and Patsies have flowed over the Atlantic was 
evident at once, and there are plenty more of the 
same sort to come. 

At twelve o'clock we took the train for Dublin, and 
rode all the afternoon through the loveliest country 
that ever was seen, — endless fields with their green 
hedges and rich crops, and men and women together 
harvesting them. I reached here at six o'clock, and 
got a room in Gre sham's Hotel, a good house which 
you will see marked upon the picture. It has been a 
perfect day, especially after the long confinement of 
the voyage. 

How strange it seems to be here ! The old town, so 
far as I have seen it to-night, looks like Boston. To- 
morrow I shall see the great Exhibition and all the 
lions, and call on one or two people to whom I have 
introductions. The Archbishop (Trench), I am 
sorry to hear, is out of town, I shall stay here till 
over Sunday, and leave on Monday for BeKast and 
the Giant's Causeway ; but I only meant to say I am 
here safe. God bless you all ! 

Affectionately, Phillips. 

Jedburgh, Scotland, 
Wednesday P. M., AugTist 30, 1865. 

Dear Father, — See if you can find this little 
place upon the map, and then picture one of the 
Brooks boys set down at the Spread Eagle Inn (the 
picture of a little English or Scotch inn), after an 



SCOTLAND. 5 

English dinner, to tell his adventures to the family in 
the back parlor of 41 Chauncy Street, Boston. Let 
me show you how I got here. Get the big Atlas 
which we had out on the Sunday night before I left, 
and trace me on from point to point. 

The last time I wrote I was in Dublin. I spent 
two days there ; saw the great Exhibition (whose 
only very striking point is the collection of pictures), 
the college, and the other sights of the dingy old 
town. I spent Sunday there, and went to service at 
St. Patrick's Cathedral, where we had the whole 
cathedral service in its most splendid style. Sunday 
afternoon, having failed in town to see Archbishop 
Trench, whom I was most anxious to see of any man 
in Ireland, I went down to Bray, a watering place near 
Dublin, where I heard he was to officiate. I did not 
find him there, and so came back to Dublin ; whence 
I started the next morning and went by the way of 
Belfast up to Port Rush on the northern coast, where 
I spent Monday night. Tuesday, I drove over to the 
Giant's Causeway and inspected it thoroughly. It 
was most interesting, — more wonderful in its forma- 
tion than I had imagined. Then back to Belfast, and 
on Tuesday night took a crazy little steamer, called 
the Lynx (about as big as the Nelly Baker, — not 
quite), for Glasgow, where contrary to all reasonable 
probabilities and amid all sorts of discomforts we 
were landed for breakfast on Wednesday morning. 
Spent the day there. It is a fine city, and puts one 
right into the midst of " Rob Roy." Nichol Jarvie lived 
close by the hotel, and I was inclined to run over and 
congratulate the good bailie on his safe return from 
the Highlands. There is a fine old cathedral there, 
in whose crypt, you may remember, one of the finest 



6 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

scenes in " Rob Roy " is laid. Thursday morning 
was clear and lovely, and I took the train early for 
the foot of Loch Lomond (Balloch), and then the 
steamer up the lake ; it is a glorious sail, different 
from anything I know in America, and full of romantic 
interest ; then across by coach to Loch Katrine, and 
down that beautiful lake by steamer. This is the one 
celebrated in the " Lady of the Lake," and you pass 
right by Ellen's Isle. Then by coach through the 
Trossachs, a splendid mountain gorge, to Stirling, 
where I spent Thursday night; saw the great castle 
and the old home of the Scottish kings. This 
brought me to Edinburgh on Friday morning. Of 
Edinburgh I cannot say enough. It is the queen of 
cities, the most romantic, picturesque, un-American, 
old-world to^\Ti that ever was. I have been there till 
to-day, and would like to have stayed a week longer ; 
its beauty is not forgettable, and its quaint sights are 
past all description. I went to church there on Sun- 
day: in the morning to one of the plainest of all plain 
Scotch Presbyterian churches, where you sat on a 
board as wide as three matches, and heard a sermon of 
an hour long; and in the afternoon to an Episcopal 
church, where the service was intoned. 

How strange these old towns are! You do not 
think of them as belonging to these days. They seem 
to have done their work in the world, and handed it 
over to us, and crept under their glass cases where 
they are kept for shows. Still, let me say for Edin- 
burgh that I found it practical enough to get there a 
traveling suit of fine Scotch tweed, for which I paid 
only five pounds, which is less than half what it would 
have cost me in America. Monday I went down to 
Abbotsford and " Fair Melrose." It is like a dream 



SCOTLAND. 1 

id see these places. Sir Walter, tlie sj)lendid old 
fellow, seems to walk and talk with you. It was the 
day I had been looking for, ever since I first read 
your old Lockhart's Life some fifteen years ago. It 
will always be -one of my memorable days. Yesterday 
I was at Roslyn Chapel and Hawthornden, both 
beautiful, the chapel a wonderful little gem of sculp- 
ture ; then back to Edinburgh in the afternoon and 
up Arthur's Seat, the famous hill which overlooks 
Edinburgh. 

I am on my way now to the English lakes, and have 
stopped here over night to see the old abbey, and a 
Scotch family to whom I have a letter of introduction. 
I have seen a good deal of Scotchmen. Their thrift 
and intelligence demand respect, but they are cold. 
I spent the evening in Glasgow with the family of a 
professor there, who all talked the broadest and most 
unintelligible Scotch. The professor insisted that 
Pennsylvania was a city, but was pretty well informed 
about our war and politics, — an AboKtionist and a 
Northern man. I wish that you could see this queer 
little town. It is Scotland in a nutshell. 

Thursday p. m. 

I was broken off here, and must close my letter 
hastily to make sure of Saturday's steamer. I am 
very well, and enjoying everything very much indeed, 
as you can see. To-day I have spent about Jedburgh 
with the Andersons, to whom I had a letter, and who 
prove to be very pleasant people. Sunday I expect 
to spend at Windermere on the lake ; after that I 
shall begin to get towards London, reaching there in 
about ten days. 

. . . Love to everybody. How I should like to 



8 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

see you all! I shall depend on getting a letter at 
London. Your affectionate son, 

Phillips. 



Queen's Hotel, Manchester, 
Tuesday, September 5, 1865. 

Dear Mother, — My last letter was directed from 
Jedburgh, Scotland. This, as you see, comes from 
Manchester. I have reached England since I wrote, 
and seen something of it already. From Jedburgh I 
went to Kelso and Berwick-on-Tweed ; thence to New- 
castle-on-Tyne, and to Durham, where I spent a few 
hours and saw one of the greatest and best of the 
English cathedrals ; then to the little village of Bar- 
nard Castle, where I spent the night, and on to Win- 
dermere in Westmoreland. My present enthusiasm is 
the English lakes. They are very beautiful. I walked 
from Windermere to Ambleside at the head of Lake 
Windermere, and spent Sunday there, a thorough 
English Sunday. I attended service in the parish 
church. At Ambleside, or rather close by, at Rydal, 
are the old homes of Wordsworth and Dr. Arnold, 
and a few miles off, at Grasmere, the homes of 
Hartley Coleridge and De Quincey. From there I 
went on Monday, by coach, through a splendid lake 
and mountain region, to Keswick on Derwentwater, 
where Southey lived and is buried, and then by rail 
via Lancaster to Manchester, where I arrived last 
night. Here I came across Americans again. I have 
seen three or four already from Philadelphia. This 
hotel is one of the great resorts of Americans in Eng- 
land. I am going to make one or two calls here, and 
then shall be off to York. 



YORK. 9 

Wednesday Morning-, September 6. 

I spent last evening at Mrs. Gaskell's. She is 
an authoress ; wrote the Life of Charlotte Bronte and 
several novels ; a charming lady and most hospitable. 
I had a letter to her from Philadelphia. She knows 
all the literary people in England and told me a great 
deal about them. I met there a Mr. Winkworth, 
brother of the lady who did the " Jjjra, Germanica." 
He is the most intelligent Englishman about our affairs 
that I have seen. Tliis was the pleasantest meeting 
with English people that I have had. Mrs. Gaskell 
promised me a letter to Ruskin, in London, with whom 
she is very intimate. 

YoEK, Thursday Evening, September 7. 

You see I began this sheet all wrong, and so you 
will have to make its order out by the dates. When 
I left off I was at Manchester. I left there yesterday 
forenoon, and reached here about two o'clock. Here, 
you know, is the greatest of the English cathedrals. 
I went all over it yesterday afternoon, and attended the 
evening service. The music was very fine. This 
morning I took the train early and have spent the day 
at Ripon, where there is another fine cathedral, and at 
Fountain Abbey, which is the oldest and most complete 
of the old monastic establislunents. I am back here 
to-night, and shall start in the morning for Lincoln, 
Ely, Cambridge, and so to London. I should like 
very much to stop at Boston, just for association's sake, 
and shall, if I have time. 

York is, I suppose, the oldest city I have seen yet. 
Here we get our first sight of the old Romans, who 
had a splendid towTi here, and whose old wall still 
remains. 



10 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

I am afraid my letters sound very mucli like guide- 
books. You must forgive me, but remember that I 
have nothing to write except what I see and hear. 
You can see that I am going all the time, and from 
morning to night. There has not yet been one stormy 
day, and I have enjoyed everything hugely. I have 
been well all the time. So far, I have seen hardly 
anything of Americans, for I have been off their 
routes. I have talked with Englishmen in the trains 
and at the hotels. I had no idea till I came here 
what a tremendous American I was. I have n't seen 
a New York paper since I left. How I shall revel in 
all your letters next week. Good-by. God bless you 
all. Phillips. 

Golden Cross Hotel, Chaking Cross, London, 
Sunday Evening, September 10, 1865, 

Dear Fathee, — At last communication is re- 
sumed. I arrived here yesterday, and found at Bar- 
ings your noble, long letter, in which I reveled. I 
hope to get others to-morrow by the steamer which 
arrived yesterday. How good it was to get in sound 
of you again and hear the wheels in Chauncy Street 
moving on as smoothly and pleasantly as ever. By 
this time you are all together again except Fred, and 
he will be there soon. How I wish that I could sit 
down with you ! 

My last I mailed at Lincoln. From there I went 
to Boston. How strange it seemed ! As we rode 
over the marshes (fens, they call them here) that 
surround the town, and saw the bricky mass rising 
before us, it was easy to believe that we were coming 
in over the Back Bay and would be with you at 
supper. It is a pretty little town of about 11,000 



LONDON. 11 

people. You walk up from the station through 
Lincoln Street to the church, which is the principal 
object of the town. It is a fine old piece of architec- 
ture. The sexton, who showed me through it, was very 
civil, especially when I told him where I came from. 
The vicar was away, or I should have called on him. 
I left my card for him. The Cotton Chapel is a nice 
little room, well restored; you see it on the right, or 
south side of the church, in the exterior one of the 
views that I send you. They still use the old John 
Cotton pulpit, but the sexton told me that they 
thought of getting a new one and giving the old relic 
to the American Boston. 

I went then to Peterborough, where I meant to spend 
the night and go to Cambridge the next day, but 
Peterborough was so full, owing to a great sheep-fair, 
that I could not find lodgings, and concluded to come 
right through to London and go to Cambridge by and 
by ; so this is my second day in London. I am right in 
the centre of the City at the head of the Strand, close 
to Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey. It is a 
fascinating place, for there is not a step that is not 
full of association. I have seen little yet in detail. 
To-morrow I begin. To-day I went to hear Spurgeon, 
and found myself in an immense crowd and rush. 
He is not graceful nor thoughtful nor imaginative, 
and preached a great deal too long, but he is earnest, 
simple, direct, and held the hosts of plain-looking 
people wonderfully. I believe with all his rudeness 
and narrowness and lack of higher powers that he is 
doing a good work here. 



12 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Thursday Evening, September 14. 

TMs must go into the mail to-morrow, so I shall 
finish it to-night. Since Sunday I have been seeing 
London, and have been very busy. Let me see: 
Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Brit- 
ish Museum, the Tower, the National Gallery, the 
Sydenham Crystal Palace, Regent's Park and its 
Zoological Gardens, the Tunnel, with lots of lesser 
sights, and the gTeatest sight of all which one has 
always in wandering about the streets of this great 
Babel. To-day I took the steamer on the Thames, all 
the way along past the City, and thi'ough its old 
bridges. Every rod here has some interest of its own. 
Yesterday I dined at Mr. Adams's at half past seven 
o'clock, a very pleasant dinner, and both Mr. and Mrs. 
Adams were very cordial and hospitable. Mrs. Adams 
was especially full of inquiries about you and mother. 
Their son Henry, and daughter, and one or two others 
were there. On Monday I go down into Hampshire 
to visit Mrs. Ivemble. I have a very kind and pressing 
invitation from her. From there I shall very probably 
keep on into the Isle of Wight. I do not know how 
to find time enough for England, especially for Lon- 
don, as I must leave here by the 10th of October. I 
have left the hotel and gone into lodgings at Mrs. 
Dekker's, No. 1 A, Craven Street, Strand. It is a 
little cheaper and a great deal more comfortable. 

I was very much disappointed at not getting letters 
from any of you by the last steamer. I do hoj^e the 
next will bring some. Don't forget me. 

I am so tired, to-night, as every night, that I can 
hardly write, so you must forgive the poorness of this 
letter. 1 think of you all and home constantly. Tell 
Fred to write. I have a letter from Franks, Avho 



HAMPSHIRE. 13 

talked of going to Boston with him. I hope he did. 
God bless you all. Affectionately, 

Phillips. 



Waknfokd Cottage, Bishops-Waltham, Hampshire, 
Wednesday, September 20, 1865. 

Dear William, — To-day's letter must be to you. 
You certainly deserve it for the splendid long epistle 
which I received last Saturday, for which I cannot 
thank you enough. I am glad that you had so 
pleasant a visit at Trenton and Saratoga, and I en- 
joyed your account of it exceedingly. Certainly, so 
far as mere natural beauty is concerned, I do not 
believe there is any need of one's leaving America. 

I am writing this before breakfast (they don't 
breakfast till half past nine) at the window of a little 
English cottage which looks out on as perfect an 
English scene as you can imagine. There is a piece 
of lawn like velvet in front, with gorgeous flower beds 
spotted over it ; then a hawthorn hedge shutting out 
from view a little winding lane, beyond which are the 
broad, smooth hills of Warnford Park, with splendid 
great trees grouped about over it, and the Hall in 
the distance, which owns and rules the whole estate. 
Is n't that English ? I am staying here with Mrs. 
Kemble, who occupies this little cottage close to the 
large estate of her brother-in-law. He owns the Hall. 
I came here on Monday, and have enjoyed my visit 
very much. Mrs. Kemble is, as I expected, very 
bright and interesting, very kind, hospitable, and cour- 
teous. The family is only herself and one daughter, 
who is just as bright as her mother. Yesterday I 
drove out with Mrs. Kemble to Winchester, about 
twelve miles, where I saw the cathedral, in some 



14 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

respects one of the finest in England, and called on 
one of the canons, to whom I had a letter from 
Bishop Mcllvaine. The drive there was very beau- 
tiful, over the Downs, as they call them, a soft roll- 
ing country, spotted over with the sheep who are 
to supply the Southdown mutton, which you know is 
the great product of this part of England. To-day I 
shall leave here and go to the Isle of Wight, getting 
back to London on Friday, and then I shall get ready 
at once to go on the Continent. I find it is impossi- 
ble at this time of year to see people or institutions 
in England to advantage ; so I propose to go to Ger- 
many and the East a little earlier, and thus secure 
time in the spring to run over here when everything 
is in full blast and I can do it more satisfactorily. I 
have seen most of the " sights " of London. After I 
wrote to you I went to Hyde Park and the Kensing- 
ton Museum, where is the best collection of modern 
English pictures, Reynolds and Hogarth, and Wil- 
kie and Leslie, etc. There is the original of the 
"Blind Fiddler" over the nursery mantelpiece at 
No. 41. The whole museum is very interesting. 
Mrs. Gaskell sent me a letter to Mr. Ruskin, and 
I drove out to Denmark Hill, where he lives, to 
present it. He was not at home, so I only had the 
pleasure of seeing his house, but I shall see him, I 
hope, by and by. The house is a very pretty subur- 
ban mansion ; a fine picture of Turner's was over the 
mantelpiece. I saw a good deal of the Adamses. 
Mrs. and Miss Adams came to my lodgings and left 
a card, " The Minister of the United States." Sun- 
day I dined with them ; Sunday morning I went to 
the Foundlings' Chapel, where the children do some 
of the best chanting in London ; in the afternoon I 



BONN. 15 

went to St. Paul's Cathedral and heard a capital ser- 
mon from Melville, who is called one of the best j)reach- 
ers in England. I called on Dean Mihnan with Mr. 
Winthrop's letter, and had a very pleasant visit. He 
lives in a curious old deanery close to the cathedral. 

My next will be dated somewhere the other side of 
the Channel. All goes well with me so far, as you 
see. I am in capital health and spirits. Just now 
I think of you all together at home ; how happy you 
must be. Do write to me every week, for steamer day 
is always looked for eagerly. It has been very hot 
here, but is cooler now, and England is the most 
beautiful thing you can conceive. Good-by. God 
bless you all. 

Phill. 

Hotel Goldener Stern, Bonn, 
Monday, October 2, 1865. 

Dear Mother, — Is n't this a funny place from 
which to write you? I wish you could see it, you 
would think it funnier still ; but you would have to 
allow that it is very pretty. It stands on the Rhine 
just before you come to the Seven Mountains, where 
the beauty of the Rhine commences, and is one of those 
queer old German cities which we have always pictured 
and know so little about until we have seen them. 
But I might as well go back to where I was at my last 
writing. I told Fred to send you my letter from 
London, so I will begin there. On Tuesday morning 
I went by rail to Dover, and thence by boat to Ostend. 
Everybody expects to be seasick on the Channel, 
but I was disappointed. We had a four hours' sail, 
as quiet and gentle as if we were going down to 
Hingham. It was most charming, and not a soul on 



16 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

board suffered from tlie sea. We came up to tlie wharf 
at Ostend, and felt at once that we were in Europe. 
I brushed up my French and went ashore, passed the 
custom-house examination, and took train by Bruges 
to Ghent, a queer old town full of historic interest ; 
from there to Brussels, a lively French to'^Ti. I 
found it rio'ht in the midst of its annual fete of 
national independence. The streets were illuminated, 
fireworks everywhere, and people sitting at tables 
drinking beer in honor of independent Belgium. I 
found all the best hotels full, and was crowded into a 
poor one, and jabbered my French for the first time 
to waiters and chambermaids. I went from Brussels 
to see the field of Waterloo. Everybody does, though 
it was n't much of a battle by the side of Gettysburg 
and Antietam. They run an English mail-coach out 
there every day. Then I saw the Brussels streets and 
churches. From Brussels to Antwerp, a dear old city, 
full of Rubens 's pictures and the quaintest old Flem- 
ish houses and costumes. From Antwerp to Rotter- 
dam, part by rail and part by steamer, up the Maas, 
through miles of dykes and windmills into my first 
Dutch towQo Such a language as they talked there ! 
I have n't half an idea what anybody said to me. I 
made a tolerable show of French and got along splen- 
didly in German, but the Dutch was too much for me. 
I could only smile blandly and point what I thought 
was the nearest way to the next town. From Rotter- 
dam to the Hague, a nice old place with canals instead 
of streets, and fiLne old pictures of Rembrandt and 
Rubens, and a lot of others ; then to Amsterdam, 
where all is canal and not street again, and the 
horrible Dutch tongue still. I went to the Xew 
Church (built in 1408) and heard them sing two 



BONN. 17 

verses of a hymn in their language. That was enough, 
and I ran down the nearest canal to the English 
church and heard our own dear liturgy and a sermon 
from the English chaplain instead. From Amsterdam 
to Diisseldorf, where the pictures come from and 
where many splendid ones are still, to Cologne, where 
the great unfinished cathedral is, at which they have 
been working six hundred years ; and from there, here. 
To-day, I have come into Germany, where they speak 
German and charge you for your dinner in thalers. 
I like the Germans much. I respect the Dutch, but 
I would not live among them for a million a year. 
To-day, too, I have come into the region of Romish 
churches and relics. I have seen the skulls of the 
Three Wise Men, the thorns of Christ's Crown, 
the wood of the True Cross, one of the water pots of 
Cana of Galilee, the steps of Pilate's JudgTuent Seat, 
and a church lined with the skulls and bones of the 
eleven thousand martyred virgins of Cologne. Of 
course you are expected to believe in them all, and 
is n't that pretty well for one day ? But the cathedral 
is very noble, by all means one of the great sights of 
the world. 

That brings me to Bonn. From here trace me to 
Coblentz, Mayence, Heidelberg, Frankfort (where I 
have directed my letters to be sent and hope to hear 
from you), Leipsic, and Berlin. Am I not a lucky 
chap to see all this? I am splendidly well, and keep 
on the go all the time, and, as I said, am getting the 
hang of German enough to be quite at home with the 
people. I eschew all delicacies and rough it gen- 
erally. Last night for the first time I found a feather 
bed for covering in my room. I kicked it off and 
slept like a top without it. The worst thing to me 



18 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

about this traveling is that you can't drink water. 
Think of my misery. But it is too vile to touch. 
However, we are now in the region of light Rhine 
wines. For twelve and a half groschen (25 cents) 
you get a bottle of good wine which answers pretty 
well, but I would give a dollar for a pitcher of ice 
water to-night. All living here is cheaj), but in Hol- 
land it is very dear and very poor indeed. I think I 
did right in coming alone, that is, as no very intunate 
friend offered. I find companions everywhere, and see 
much more of the people than if I were with a party 
of my own. It costs a little more, because I have to 
pay all fees, which are a great expense here for one, 
instead of dividing them among a party. To-day I 
met a Philadelphian on the steps of Cologne cathedral, 
and last week I found a family of parishioners at the 
Hotel St. Antoine in Antwerp. 

My dearest mother, you cannot think how strange 
it seems to be writing in this little German inn, and 
knowing that you will read it in the old back par- 
lor at home, where you have read my letters from 
Cambridge, Alexandria, and Philadelphia. Johnnie 
will bring it up from the post office some night, and 
Trip will break out into one of his horrible concerts 
two or three times while you are reading it. Then 
as soon as it is over, father will get out his big candle 
and you will put up the stockings, and all go up the old 
stairway to the old chambers, and to bed. Well, good- 
night and pleasant dreams to you all, and don't forget 
that I am off here wandering up and down these old 
countries and thinking ever so much about you. At 
Frankfort, where I hope to be early next week, I shall 
find your letters and have a talk with you again. 



CASSEL. 19 

And now, good-nigiit ; peace and every blessing be 
witb you always. God bless you all. 

Phillips. 



Cassel, Germany, 
Monday Evening, October 9, 1865. 

My dear William, — Just before I left Frank- 
fort-on-tbe-Main to-day, I went to tbe bankers' and 
found there your good letter of September 22. It 
was my company on a lovely ride up tbe country to 
this queer old German town, whence I answer it from 
the dining-room of the Romlicher Kaiser hotel. A 
thousand thanks for it. I shall not widte so good a 
one, but I will try to tell you what I have been doing 
in a very busy week since I wrote to mother last Mon- 
day night from Bonn. I left there by the Rhine boat 
and landed first at Kaiserwinter, on the right bank at 
the foot of the Drachenf els ; climbed that hill and saw 
one of the loveliest views in the world from ishe old 
castle at its top. We went up through vineyards and 
looked down on the Rhine winding past the Seven 
Mountains ever so far towards the sea. Kaiserwinter 
is a charming little German village, and on my return 
from the hill I heard the bells chiming, and stopped to 
ask what it meant. I was told it was a " Fest " or 
village feast, and so roamed into the village to see it. 
It was the most perfect German picture. The young 
men of the village were firing at a mark in a little 
wine garden, and all the hamlet were gathered to drink 
the new wine and look at them. By and by the bird 
was shot down, and the man who shot it down was 
thereby king of the Feast. He had the privilege of 
choosing the prettiest girl in town for the queen, and 
then, with a rustic band of music, the procession, 



20 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

headed by tlie king and queen, marclied through the 
old streets and called on all the gentry, who treated 
them and gave them contributions for a feast, to which 
they all returned in the garden. Here they made 
merry through the afternoon, and closed all with a 
dance. It was just like a German story book. 

Jueh-he, jueh-he, juch-lieise, heise, he, 
So ging der fiedelbogen. 

Think of being at a dance of German peasants on 
the Ehine ! From here I took the boat again, and sail- 
ing down past vine-covered hills topped with ruined 
castles, I came at last to Coblentz. Here I stopped 
again and climbed to the Castle of Ehrenbreitstein, 
where was another view of the Rhine and the Moselle, 
which flows into it just here. Then the boat again, 
past the great Castle of Stolzenfels and countless 
others, one on almost every height, till we came to 
St. Goar, the most delightful little village on the left 
bank. Here another stop, and then on through the 
region of the choicest vineyards to Mayence, the 
quaintest of old fortified towns. You have no idea 
of the beauty of this river from Bonn to Mayence. 
I think we have rivers whose scenery by nature is as 
fine, but the castles and ruins have grown to be a part 
of the nature, and are not separable from it, and the 
soft October air and sunlight of those days showed 
everything at its utmost beauty. The trees were gor- 
geous in color with not a leaf fallen, and the vineyards 
climbing the hills, and perching on every inch of 
ground that faced the southern sun, were very inter- 
esting. 

From Mayence I went to Worms, where Luther 
dared the Diet; then to Mannheim, and so to Heidel- 
berg. Of all beautiful places this is the most perfect. 



CASSEL. 21 

It lies along the Neckar, and is overlooked everywhere 
by the noblest of old ruined castles. Here is one of 
the great universities wliich. I went to see. The boys 
looked pretty much like Cambridge juniors, except 
where here and there you see one with his face all 
slashed up from a duel. Let us be thankful Cam- 
abridge has not got to that. 

From here I went up to Wiesbaden, one of the great 
watering and gambling places, a splendid German 
Saratoga. It was in full blast, and I saw the roulette 
and rouge-et-noir tables in the gorgeous saloons 
crowded day and night. At night, a great free concert 
by a splendid band, and illumination of the beautiful 
grounds. It was a strange sight. Then to Frankfort, 
where I spent Sunday at the Hotel de Russie. This 
is a fine town, part of it very old and quaint, part very 
new and fine ; some good pictures, some good statuary, 
and an old cathedral, where I went and heard a Ger- 
man sermon and some splendid German music. Both 
Luther and Goethe were born here, and their houses 
stiU stand. To-day, up from Frankfort here, through 
one of the richest historic regions of aU Germany. 
This is another of those old towns to which I am get- 
ting very used, and which delight me more and more. 
I like the Germans immensely. They are frank, kind, 
sociable, and hearty. They give you an idea of a 
people with ever so much yet to do in the world, 
capable of much fresh thought and action. Their 
language is like them, noble, vigorous, and simple. 
I am getting hold of it very well. They think for 
themselves and unselfishly, and they believe in 
America. Their peasants are poor, but seem intelli- 
gent, and their better classes have the most charming 
civility. I have seen more pretty women than I saw 



22 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 

in all England, and I have not seen the best of Ger- 
many. I am impatient to get to Hanover, and Berlin, 
and Dresden, where one sees the finest specimens. 

Here, then, yon have another week's biography. Is 
it not full enough ? My next will be from Dresden. 
I shall spend all this month in Germany, and about 
the first of November leave Vienna for the East. I 
am splendidly well and happy all the time, but very 
often, to-night, for instance, I wotdd like to look in 
upon you all at home, and tell and hear a thousand 
things that will not go on paper. As to money, you 
will get two drafts, one in London and one in Cologne. 
These currencies with their perpetual changes are 
great nuisances. First, in Belgium, it was francs and 
centimes ; then, in Holland, thalers and groschen ; 
then, in Prussia, florins and kreutzers ; and now back 
to thalers and groschen again. 

I received a weekly " Herald " to-day ; many thanks. 
Send one once in a while, say once a month, for the 
only paper on the Continent that pretends to give 
American news is the London " Times." 

It is two months to-day since I sailed. How they 
have gone ! And to me they have been the fullest 
months of my life. Not a day without something that 
I have longed all my fife to see. So it will go on till 
I see the sight that I shall be most glad of all to 
see, you and father waiting on the wharf to see me 
land, as you came down before to see me sail. 

Good-by; love in lots to father and mother, and 
Arthur and John and Trip, and Fred when you writa. 
God bless you all. Phill. 



BERLIN. 23 

Bekun, 

Tuesday, October 17, 1865. 

Deak Father, — I will begin a letter here and 
finish it in Dresden, where I go to-day. I have been 
here since Friday, the longest stay I have made any- 
where since I left London. Let me see, my last was 
to William from Cassel, a week ago yesterday. From 
there I went to Eisenach, where Luther's prison is 
in the old Wartburg Castle ; then to Weimar, where 
Goethe and Schiller lived ; then to Leipsic, where the 
great fair was going on ; then to Halle, where the 
university is, and where I stayed and called on several 
of the professors, to whom I had letters. They were 
very cordial and pleasant, and I enjoyed my visit there 
very much; then to Wittenberg, which is the great 
shrine of Luther: his house just as he left it, the 
church where he preached and nailed his Theses to 
the door, his grave, his monument, and countless other 
memorials of him. Melanchthon lived here too, and 
his house is still preserved. Thence to Magdeburg, 
a fine old town with a fine old cathedral, and then to 
this Berlin, the Prussian capital, one of the brightest 
and most beautiful of all the great cities of Europe. 
I am staying at the Hotel du Nord, in the street called 
Unter den Linden, right opposite the splendid statue 
of Frederick the Great, and in view of a dozen noble 
buildings, the palace, museum, imiversity, etc. Here 
is one of the great picture galleries, which I have ex- 
plored thoroughly and know well. I have been to 
several private collections besides. There are many 
Americans here. I went to a soiree on Saturday 
evening at our minister's, Governor Wright's, and met 
some fifty. I have also seen a good deal of the family 
of Dr. Abbott, to whom I had a letter, and who is 



24 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

a capital fellow. I have dined there two or three 
times, and have met his father-in-law, Mr. Fay, for- 
merly our minister to Switzerland, who has given me 
a good letter to Motley in Vienna. Yon see I do not 
lack for company and friends. I found that the Ger- 
mans were much interested in our freedmen, and I got 
quite back into my last winter's harness, in making a 
speech on the subject to a meeting of German gentle- 
men at the American embassy. Tell Fred I used 
him. These Germans are with us out and out. The 
professors at Halle are Abolitionists of the strongest 
sort. It is very refreshing to be with them after be- 
ing in England. Berlin is a charming city, the head- 
quarters of art and science and music. I went to a 
capital concert here last night. I almost hate to leave 
the town. 

I get no letters since I left Frankfort, and shall 
not now till next week, when I arrive at Munich. I 
have ordered them sent there. You have no idea 
what eras in a traveler's life are his arrivals at ^^laces 
where his letters meet him. I always rush to the 
banker's for them the first thing. 

Munich, Thursday Eyening, October 26. 
I beg pardon most hmnbly for this long gap. The 
truth was I got as far as that, and then went to dinner, 
my last day, at Dr. Abbott's, and right after dinner 
left Berlin for Dresden, and since then have been so 
busy that letter writing has been neglected. I reached 
here yesterday, and foimd letters from father and 
mother and Fred and Franks, all in one bundle ; and 
to-day I dropped in at the banker's again and fomid 
William's letter of the 3d ; so now I certainly must 
write, and will go back to where I left off in Berlin 



MUNICH. 25 

a week ago last Monday. I rode direct to Dresden, 
where I spent two days ; and such days ! Oh, if you 
could see the picture gallery there I it has the picture of 
the world which I have waited years to see, Eaphael's 
Madonna di San Sisto. I will not say anything about 
it, because there is no use trying to tell what a man 
feels w^ho has been wanting to enjoy something for 
fifteen years, and when it comes finds it is something 
unspeakably beyond what he had dreamed. 

The other rooms of the gallery are rich in the great 
paintings of the world. Then I took the train to 
Prague, passing into Bohemia and showing my pass- 
port to the inquisitive Austrian officials at Bodenach. 
Prague is the queerest old Austrian town, with splen- 
did views, grand old chiu'ches, some good pictures, ^q 
palaces, and the strangest old synagogue in Europe. 
Then to Nuremberg, the oldest-looking town on the 
Continent ; old mthout an admixture or intrusion of 
the new, to-day as completely a town of three hundred 
years ago as it was then. Tell William to read you 
Longfellow^s poem of " Nuremberg " aloud to-night, 
and you will know just what I saw and how I felt. 
From Nuremberg to Eatisbon, another of the very old 
towns, with one of the most perfect cathedrals and 
the Valhalla or Temple of Fame, on the banks of the 
Danube. Here was my first sight of the great river. 
Then from Ratisbon here, where I am sitting in my 
room of the third story of the Vierjahreszeiten (that 
means "Four Seasons ") Hotel, writing tliis letter to 
you. Mimich is in its beauty a new town, but splen- 
didly full of interest. Let me see. Here is the great 
Gallery of Old Pictures, the Gallery of Moderns, one 
of the great sculpture galleries of the world, the great 
royal foundry, the second greatest library, the largest 



26 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

bronze statue, tlie finest church glass, and the noblest 
public buildings in Europe. Is that enough, and is n't 
this last a week to cross the Atlantic for ? Dresden, 
Prague, Nuremberg, and Munich ! I will say no more 
about them, but be sure I am very well contented with 
my lot. 

Your letters were delightful to get. I could see you 
all sitting around the table writing them and talking 
as the work went on. How you must have enjoyed 
your visit from Fred ! I am very glad that Franks 
went on with him. He is a nice boy, a great pet of 
mine, and more than that, a fellow of a great deal of 
earnestness, ability, determination, and sterling char- 
acter. You may well be glad to have given him so 
much enjoyment as he seems to have had in Boston. 
Of course, before this they are both hard at work 
again in Philadelphia. 

I shall be here one day longer, and then leave for 
Salzburg, Vienna, Pesth, and Trieste, whence I expect 
to sail on the 10th of November for the great East. 
J You will gather from my letter that all goes well and 
I am very happy. There has not been an hour since 
I left New York that has not been full of pleasure, not 
a day that has not been lighted up by seeing some of 
the sights for which I have longed. And all the East 
and Italy and France and much of England and Swit- 
zerland is yet in store. Hurrah ! 

This place is full of English and Americans. I had 
a discussion at the table d'hote yesterday with an 
English gentleman, during which lots of American 
secessionists got up and left. General McClellan is in 
Dresden, but I did not see him, and slept soundly in 
the same city >;\dth the great Coppery hero. 

I have a letter from Mr. Coffin, who reports all well 



ON THE DANUBE. 27 

in the church matters. He says Dr. Butler is doing 
everything there is to do, so I feel easier to be wan- 
dering about here in this delightful way. 

And now good-night. Before you get this I shall 
be on my way to the Lands of the Sun. Think of me, 
pray for me, and write to me. God bless you, and 
keep us all, and bring us safe together again by and 
by. Lots of love to all. Phillips. 

Poor Trip ! ! 

Steamboat Francis- Joseph, on the Danube, 
Sunday, November 5, 1865. 

Dear William, — This is the funniest yet. Here 
I am fairly on my way to the East. I am sitting in 
a little cabin, with a perfect Babel about me. Every 
language except English is in my ears, German, 
Italian, French, Hungarian, Greek, and I know not 
how many more besides. Outside it is raining gmis. 
The old river is broad, shallow, and vilely muddy. 
The banks are low and gravelly, except where here 
and there the great Carpathian Momitains gather 
down about the stream and make a grand gorge 
where the river goes whirling and dashing through. 
We have just done breakfast, which is served at ten 
o'clock, with meats and poor Hungarian wines. 
Every now and then we pass a miserable little Turk- 
ish village, with its dirty, strange-dressed peasants. 
It is not much like Sunday morning, but I must 
make the best of it, and do not know how I can use it 
better than by writing home, so here goes. 

You have kept the run of me, I hope, as far as 
Munich, the most beautiful of German cities. From 
there I took the train to Salzburg, where I spent two 
days. One of them was occupied in a long excursion 
to the Konigsee, a lake in the Styrian Alps, shut in 



28 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

by snowy-topped mountains, with glaciers all down 
their sides. The lake itself is lovely, with its deep 
green waters, and picturesque Tyrolese boatmen row 
you up to its head and back again. Then you stop 
and dine at a little Alpine cottage inn at the foot, 
and after dinner drive to Berchtesgaden, where the 
great salt mines are. Here you dress uj) in full 
miner's rig, and walk a mile or two into the heart of 
a mountain, and then, sitting down on two parallel 
bars with a man in front to hold your legs, you slide 
like lightning down into the bowels of the earth and 
come to a great salt lake (lit up by hundreds of 
lamps) which you are rowed across by two subterra- 
nean beings who look like fiends ; then another walk 
and another slide bring you to a vast temple, no- 
body knows how far under ground, with a dome of 
infinite darkness, where some more fiends are draw- 
ing up the salt rock from unfathomable depths still 
below. All the way, as your lamp shines on the 
walls or ceilings, they sparkle all over with the pre- 
cious crystals ; then some more avenues, till you 
reach the salt grotto where the choicest specimens 
have been collected, and there you sit down on a 
little railway car, which plunges along with you 
through the mountain till it whirls you at last out 
into daylight, and your visit to the great salt mines 
is over. It is one of the most unique and splendid 
things to do in Europe. I would n't have missed its 
interest and beauty for anything. My second day in 
Salzburg was Sunday. I went to all the churches 
and heard their services and music, and saw the 
people in their holiday dress. Of course it is all 
Roman Catholic ; there is nothing Protestant in the 
town. In the afternoon I went up to the great castle 



VIENNA. 29 

and saw the view, which is one of the noblest on the 
Continent. Then I hunted up the grave of old Para- 
celsus, the middle-age magician, and his house, where 
I amazed an old German lady by insisting on seeing 
his room, which I succeeded in doing and in which I 
was much interested. Then to the houses where 
Mozart was born and where he lived, and wound up 
by following a funeral procession, which went chanting 
with banners and incense through the town, into an 
old graveyard behind one of the churches. 

From Salzburg by Linz to Vienna. What shall I 
say about Vienna? Here is another of the great 
picture galleries, with its Raphaels, Titians, Rem- 
brandts, Rubenses, and countless others, whom one 
learns to know and admire in these splendid collec- 
tions. Pictures and churches are the two great 
attractions of these old towns. Vienna has a grand 
old cathedral with the most beautiful of Gothic spires. 
I was there on All Saints' Day and heard high mass, 
with an old cardinal officiating, and a full band and 
splendid choir of men and boys doing the music. 

The next day was All Souls', when the Romish 
Church conmiemorates the dead. All the churches 
were draped in mourning, masses were sung, the 
graveyards were full of people, and in one of the 
churches the vaults were thrown open and the coffins 
of the Austrian emperors from time immemorial 
were shown to hosts of people, who crawled down to 
see them, among whom was I. In Munich they do 
better still, and show you the very corpses of their 
emperors preserved in glass chests full of spirits. I 
did not see their majesties, but I saw an old saint, 
six hundred years old, kept in this way in one of 
the churches. Vienna is great in relics. A piece of 



30 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

the tablecloth of the Last Supper, a piece of John 
the Baptist's robes, St. Anne's arm-bone, nails from 
the Cross, a large piece of the Cross, and lots of 
others, — all these are used at the coronations of the 
emperors. I dined at Vienna with Mr. Motley of 
the " Dutch Republic," who is our minister there, 
and found him full of hospitality and very pleasant. 
I had a letter to him from Mr. Fay in Berlin. I 
stayed here three days, and bought my last outfits, 
thick boots, blankets, etc., for the East. 

At Vienna I met Dr. Leeds of Philadelphia (for- 
merly of Salem), who is also for the East, and we 
joined company for the present. It is almost neces- 
sary, and certainly a great deal cheaper, to have 
some company in Syria. We left Vienna on Friday, 
and concluded to go down the Danube to Constanti- 
nople, thence by steamer to Beyrout, thence through 
Syria to Jerusalem, getting to Bethlehem at Christ- 
mas, when there is a great service there ; then to 
Jaffa, and thence to Egypt ; then Greece, and so back 
to Italy. We took rail to Pesth and then to Baziasch 
on the river, where we took a steamer which carries 
us to Tchernavoda, whence we cross by rail to Kus- 
tenji on the Black Sea, where another steamer meets 
and takes us down to Constantinople. (Can you find 
these places on the map ?) We have begun to find 
the delays and the irregularities of Eastern travel. 
Already we have changed our steamer three times as 
the river became shallower or deeper. Last night 
we reached Orsova at about dusk, and to our surprise 
found that the boats did n't travel after dark, so we 
laid up there till morning. We shall probably reach 
Constantinople on Wednesday night instead of Tues- 
day morning, as we were told. I think it very proba- 



IN THE BOSPHORUS. 31 

ble tliat our course may be so slow tliat I shall give 
up Egypt and sail right from Jaffa to Greece, but I 
cannot tell. I don't worry ahead. Italy is before me 
all the while, and I must get a great deal of time 
there. I do not care as much for Egypt. I cer- 
tainly shall not go up the Nile, so tell mother she 
need not worry about the Pyramids. 

My next letters from home will not reach me till I 
get to Alexandria or Athens, so I am shut off from 
communication with home till then, but you will hear 
from me. I received yours and father's and mother's 
letters in Vienna, and am glad to hear of all being so 
well. Keep on writing ; I shall get them some time or 
other. I believe none have missed me yet, and if you 
could see how glad I am to get them, you would not 
mind Avriting. 

We crossed the Turkish line this morning, so we 
are in the Sultan's dominions now. Our passports 
bear his stamp, and we feel already like Turks. How 
far off it seems ! I shall not have a chance to mail 
this till we get to Constantinople, and before you get 
it I shall be in the Holy Land. Think of me there, 
and be sure that I am thinking of you all. 

I am perfectly well and ready for anything. Three 
months next Thursday since I sailed. What a three 
months they have been. Nine more like them, and 
then I will come back to work again. May God keep 
us all. 

Phill. 



In the Bosphorus, 

Thursday, November 9, 1865. 

I open this to tell you that with many delays and 
disappointments we have come thus far. We finished 



32 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

our sail on the Danube on Tuesday about noon, and 
landing at Tchernavoda took the railway across the 
Peninsula to Kustenji. It was funny to find an 
English-built railway here, with English conductors 
and engineers in turbans. We had gone about five 
miles when we came down with a thump, and found 
that the train had run off the track and broken the 
rails to pieces, so we had to wait there all day till 
another train could be sent for, and we did not reach 
the Black Sea till nine o'clock at night. We took 
ship at once, and yesterday had the most pleasant sail 
down to the Bosphorus, which we entered just at four 
o'clock, and sailed as far as this place, whose name I 
can't find out, about halfway down the Bosphorus, 
where we were quarantined last night, and this morn- 
ing are waiting for the fog to clear away to go on to 
Constantinople, which is only an hour off. Think of 
that ! This will be mailed from among the minarets, 
and before to-night I hope to see the Mosque of St. 
Sophia and look upon the dancing dervishes. 

Before you get this. Thanksgiving will have come 
and passed. I hope you had a pleasant one. I sup- 
pose I shall be only just in time if I wish you now a 
merry Christmas. So I do with all my heart. I shall 
spend mine in Bethlehem. 

Constantinople, 
Sunday, November 12. 

There has been no mail before to-night, so I open 
this again to say we have been three days here in 
Constantinople. They have been very full of sight- 
seeing. It is the strangest life to look at, and like 
a dream every hour. I have seen St. Sophia, the 
bazaars, the howling dervishes, the dancing dervishes, 
the Sultan, and much besides, of which I will tell you 



SMYRNA. 33 

some other time. To-morrow we leave for Smyrna. 
I received the American papers from our minister 
here, and shall get your letters when I reach Alex- 
andria, or Athens, about New Year's. 

I have met here a young Mr. W. S. Appleton of 
Boston, son of Nathan Appleton, I believe, who joins 
us in our trip to Syria. He is a good fellow, so with 
our dragoman and servants we shall make a strong 
party. Good-by for the third time. Love to all. 

Phill. 

Smyrna, Sunday Afternoon, 
November 19, 1865. 

Dear Mother, — I will just begin a letter now, 
though I do not know whence or when I can send it to 
you. It will seem a little like talking to you to be 
writing it, at any rate. I am here in Smyrna, and just 
now especially full of the trip I made yesterday to 
Ephesus. So I will begin with that. They have a rail- 
way to within three miles, and we took the train early 
in the morning to Ayasoluk, a miserable little Turk- 
ish village, whose only interest is an old ruined castle, 
and the remains of a mosque which is built on the site 
of the church where St. John the Evangelist preached, 
and under which he is said to be buried. We cannot, 
of course, be sure of it, but it seems by no means un- 
likely ; and I chose, as I stood there, to believe it true. 
Then we rode on horseback across a broad plain, 
where the great city once stood, and where now there 
is not a ti'ace of life save here and there a poor Turk 
straggling about in the lazy way of this wretched 
people. We came finally to a pass between two hills, 
and here the ruins began. We had only two hours to 
examine them, and many of the sites are doubtful. The 



34 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

great Temple of Diana is altogether gone ; but the 
one thing most certain of all, about which there can be 
no doubt, is the theatre where the great meeting was 
held, in the Book of Acts, and where Paul tried to go 
in to the people. There it is, a vast amphitheatre in 
the side of the hill, in ruins of course, but as clearly 
and e^ddently the theatre as it was the day he saw it. 
Then there is the market-j)lace w^here Demetrius ad- 
dressed the craftsmen ; and they point out also the 
School of Tyrannus, where Paul taught. 

They show you also the tomb of Mary Magdalene, 
but this is uncertain. The theatre is the one certain 
building which is referred to in the Bible story. 
Many of the ruins of other buildings, temples, race- 
coiu'ses, gymnasia, etc., are very beautiful, and the 
situation of the old city must have been charming. 
Was not this worth seeing? Even coming a good 
way for ? And now to tell you how we came here. 
Our steamer left Constantinople last Monday after- 
noon, sailed down the Sea of Marmora, through the 
Dardanelles, past the plain of Troy, where you see the 
whole scene of the old war, and the funeral mounds 
still standing on the shore, by the islands of Lemnos, 
Imbros, and Tenedos, keeping inside of them. The sea 
was very rough, and we were at last obliged to come 
to anchor in a httle bay between Mitjdene and the 
mainland. (St. Paul stopped at Mitylene, you know.) 
Here we had to stay thirty-six hours, waiting for 
smoother weather. We went ashore and roamed about, 
but there was not much to see, — Turks, and their huts 
and camels and donkeys. 

We sailed on Thursday morning again, and Friday 
morning landed here at Smyrna. I wash you could 
see this town ; it is the strangest mixtui*e in the 



SMFMNA. 35 

world. Turks, Greeks, and Armenians, in their 
strange costumes, fill the little dirty streets. The ba- 
zaars are full of cross-legged merchants praising their 
wares in all sorts of gibberish : Persian carpets, shawls, 
slippers, with figs, fruits, and spices, all of the East, 
Eastern. Every now and then a long caravan of cam- 
els laden with bales goes winding through, just arrived 
from Persia, with its wild-looking drivers shouting 
and screaming to make way for them. This morning, 
we went to the English chapel, which is at the English 
consulate, and heard a sermon from the old chaplain 
who has been here for thirty years. This afternoon, 
to the Armenian church, where there was a strange 
sort of service going on in their native language. The 
strangest services I have seen were those of the howl- 
ing dervishes and the whirling dervishes in Constan- 
tinople. They are a kind of order of Mohammedans ; 
the former make all their worship consist in working 
themselves up into frenzy by roaring and screaming ; 
the latter, by whirling round and round their church 
till they are dizzy. I saw both, and shall never see 
anything more curious in the way of religious service. 
In Constantinople, I went all over the great Mosque 
of St. Sophia, the greatest of mosques, originally built 
for a Christian church, and still having many crosses 
and other Christian symbols uneffaced upon its walls. 
It is very curious and impressive, and very sacred 
among the Mohammedans. Here, and in all their 
sacred buildings, you have to take off your shoes and 
enter in stocking-feet. 

We live oddly here. Our fare everywhere is a mix- 
ture of French and Turkish diet, and as unlike home 
as you can conceive. On board boat we rise about 
eight, and find a cup of coffee waiting in the cabin. 



36 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

That is all till ten, when we have a full meal, fish, 
meat, pastry, fruit, and wine. Then at five or six a 
dinner of about the same, and in the evening tea, so 
you see we do not suffer. Traveling here in the East 
is very slow and very expensive ; but now that I am 
here, I had better do it thoroughly, and it is all inter- 
esting. We were two days behind time in reaching 
this place, and shall be slow in getting to Beyrout. 
The ^gean is the most uncertain sea in the world, 
but I shall certainly spend Christmas at Bethlehem, 
and Thanksgiving probably at Damascus. I am quite 
well off for company with Dr. Leeds and Mr. Appleton, 
who joined us at Constantinople. I am perfectly well 
and am having a splendid time. 

On Board Steamer Godavery, 
Monday, November 20. 

We came aboard the steamer this morning to sail 
for Beyrout. She is a French steamer just arrived 
from Marseilles, and going to Alexandria. I wish 
you could see this bay of Smyrna, this lovely morning. 
Everything is as perfect as a picture, and the air on 
deck is like the softest summer. We shall be four or 
five days on board, if all goes well, and I look forward 
to it with much enjoyment. This morning, as we 
sat at breakfast, you would have liked to see a big 
mulatto come in and be greeted by the captain and 
officers with immense respect as " Pasha," and take 
his seat alongside of my friend Dr. Leeds, and eat his 
breakfast with us in the most composed and matter- 
of-course way. I wondered what they would have said 
to it in Philadelphia? 



ON BOARD STEAMER GODAVERY. 37 

Wednesday, November 22. 

We are still pushing along towards Beyrout. The 
weather so far has been cleKghtfid, and the sea not at 
all rough. The scenery is perfect, as we go winding 
along among the many islands, every one of them a 
place of some old associations, the most interesting 
we have seen, but I was sorry to pass by Patmos (where 
St. John was banished and wrote the Revelation) in 
the night, so that we saw notliing of it. Yesterday we 
stopj)ed two hours at Rhodes, but the quarantine is in 
force there at present and we were not allowed to land. 
Just enouoii cholera remains hanoino- about these 
parts to keep the quarantine alive, and that is the 
only danger from it now. I hear there is a ten days' 
quarantine in Greece, which wall seriously inconve- 
nience me if I go there. The fear seems to be that 
the cholera will just linger along through the Avinter, 
and then break out with more violence next summer. 
However, I am in no danger now, nor shall be while I 
am in the East. 

Thursday, November 23. 

Here we are, laid by for a day to discharge and re- 
ceive cargo at Messina, which you will find almost at 
the very northeast corner of the Levant. The place, 
which we can see plainly from the ship, is a little 
straggling village with its mosque. Lines of camels 
are continually winding in and out, carrying back into 
the interior the goods we bring. The only interest of 
the country is, that just behind those hills there lies 
the old town of Tarsus, where St. Paul was born, and 
where there still stands an old church, which they say 
he built. We have no time to go there, and must be 
content to know just where it lies. In the distance the 



38 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Taurus Mountains, covered witli snow, are very grand. 
Tlie weather is superb, as soft as June. Last night 
was the most gorgeous starlight I ever saw. 

Saturday, November 25. 

I must finish this letter now, for to-night we shall 
be at Beyrout, and I must mail it. All day yesterday 
we were Ij'ing in front of Alexandretta (Iskanderoon), 
the port of Aleppo, where we discharged part of our 
cargo and took on board a lot of cotton. We went 
ashore and wandered about the picturesque and dirty 
little TiuMsh to^Ti. It had a quaint old bazaar, as 
all these places have, where the business of the place 
is carried on. Palm-trees, camels, and women muffled 
in white with only the eyes looking out, and all sorts 
of odd male costumes, made it a very Eastern pic- 
ture. The day was oppressively hot, like Augoist in 
Boston. 

We sailed at night, and arrived early this morning 
at Latakia, a pretty little to^Ti among the trees, mth 
mosques and minarets and an old castle. Here we 
only stayed two hours, and then started again for Bey- 
rout. We stopped once more at Tripolis. At Bey- 
rout our voyage ends. There we shall get a drago- 
man and horses, and ride do^sTi the coast to Sidon and 
T}rre ; then by the mountains up northeast to Baalbec ; 
from there to Lebanon and the Cedars ; then do\vTi to 
Damascus ; thence across to the Lake of Galilee and 
Tiberias, to Nazareth, to Mt. Carmel on the coast; 
from there to Samaria, and thence dov,Ti to Jerusalem. 
That is our route now, but it may be altered. Does n't 
it soimd interesting ? It ^\dll take in all about three 
weeks, and I wiU write again from Jerusalem. Now 
good-by. I am very well, and think much of you all. 



DAMASCUS. 39 

God bless and keep you all, and bring us together 
again. Love to all. Your loving son, 

Phillips. 



Geand Hotel de Damas, 
Sunday Evening, December 3, 1865. 

Dear Father, — Here I am in Damascus. I 
have reached the most easterly point of all my 
travels. I am in the oldest city of the world, and 
will write you how I reached here and what it 
looks like. My last, which I suppose was sent from 
Beyrout, was written on the steamer from Smyrna. 
We landed at Beyrout a week ago to-day, and went 
to church in the morning at the American mission, 
and in the afternoon at the English consulate. We 
had a host of dragomans about us, and selecting 
one, we set him at work to make his preparations 
for our long Syrian journey. We engage him to 
take us to Jaffa, paying all charges at an expense 
of five pounds ten shillings per day for the party. 
Monday we spent in making our arrangements, trying 
horses, getting our contract with the dragoman cer- 
tified before the American consul, etc., etc. 

Tuesday morning early our party might have been 
seen mounting and making ready for departure at the 
door of the Hotel de 1" Orient, surrounded by a great 
crowd of curious natives. Let me tell you of what our 
caravan consists. Remember, we are to travel thirty 
days or more, dependent almost wholly upon what we 
carry with us. First, of the animals : there are six 
horses, six mules, and two donkeys. The six horses 
are ridden by Dr. Leeds, Mr. Appleton, and Francois 
his French courier ; by P. B., and Ibrahim Amatury, 
our native dragoman, an invaluable person, who 



40 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

speaks many languages and does all sorts of tilings ; 
and Aclmiet, tlie muleteer, wlio owns the horses and 
goes ^\dth us to look after their weKare. Scattered 
about among the animals come our other attendants, 
namely, Antonio, the cook, a native of Bagdad, and 
Luin his waiter, Ibrahim, Luttuf, a boy from Damas- 
cus who sings Ai'abic love songs, Hoseim, a.nd Elias, 
these last four, mule drivers and general servants. 
So oiu' w^hole corps, you see, is twelve. Our baggage 
always starts off first, and we follow in an hour or 
two. Then we stop to lunch at midday, and let them 
get ahead again, and arrive at our camping-place for 
the night to find the tents all pitched and dinner 
ready. Our horses are good. I am mounted on a 
bay horse (not quite as big as Robin), which 
would n't make much show on the Mill Dam, but has 
stood it splendidly, so far, over these hard roads. 

We left Beyrout early this morning on the road 
which a French company have built all the way to 
Damascus. We kept this road all day. We woimd 
up Mt. Lebanon by slow degTces, thi'ough olive gToves 
and mulberry-trees, with the snowy summits of the 
highest peaks looking down upon us, passing several 
monasteries, which swarm all along these hills. At 
noon w^e made our first halt, and lunched at the 
Khan Sheik Mahmoud, a rude sort of lodging-place 
haKw^ay up. About three in the afternoon, we 
reached the top of the range, and began to descend 
into the valley between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, 
called, of old, Ccele-Syria. Here Mt. Hermon first 
loomed in sight, with its gTeat roimd snow-covered top 
off to the southeast. At the foot of Lebanon we came 
to the little ^'illage of Mecseh, just outside of which w^e 
pitched our first camp and spent the night. We were 



BAALBEC. 41 

a very picturesque group, I assure you, by our night 
fire, with our Syrians in their striking costumes and 
the wild mountain rising behind us. We have two 
large tents : Dr. Leeds, Appleton, and I sleep in 
one, and the rest of the company in the other. We 
live well, our cook is firstrate, and provisions are 
plenty. The middle of the day is intensely warm, 
the nights very cold, but the weather so far splendidly 
clear. 

Wednesday morning we were off again early, and 
leaving the French road soon struck off through the 
town of Zahleh, and so along up the valley towards 
Baalbec. We stopped a few minutes at a little vil- 
lage to see what they call " Noah's Tomb," which is 
a queer thing in a long house ; a kind of gTave, about 
fifty yards long, in which they say the patriarch was 
buried. He must have been about as long as St. Paul's 
church. It is a sacred place and covered all over with 
offerings. We stopped this day to lunch by an old 
mill on the river Litany, and then, after a long, hot 
afternoon ride, about five o'clock we saw before us 
the ruins of Baalbec. We galloped in, pitched our 
tents in the great court of the Temple of the Sun, and 
ate our dinner in sight of the grand remains. I can- 
not describe to you the splendor of the moonlight that 
night, as we roamed about and saw the Temple of the 
Sun, with its enormous columns, and the Temple of 
Jupiter close by it, both in ruins, but both sublime. 
We slept well in the old temple court. Our giiides 
told us of a jackal prowling around at night, but I 
cannot boast of having seen him. I wish I had. 
Right opposite we saw the snowy hills on which the 
Lebanon cedars gTew, but had no time to visit them. 

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, we thought much of 



42 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

America and home. We spent the forenoon in care- 
fully going over the ruins, which are immense and 
very beautiful. At noon we took horses, and now 
began, striking for Damascus, to cross the Anti- 
Lebanon range. We lunched under a fine old walnut- 
tree, two hours from Baalbec, in the midst of a hot 
and stony plain. Then crossing another ridge, on the 
top of which we saw the mosque which contains the 
tomb of Seth, the son of Adam, we came by a steep, 
zigzag Koman road into the loveliest little green valley, 
up which we rode to the town of Sigaya, where we 
encamped that night, and while our Thanksgiving 
dinner was getting ready roamed about the little 
town, to the great wonder and bewilderment of the 
people, who came about us in crowds. These Syrian 
villages are the most miserable places on earth. 
As soon as you enter one, the children turn out at 
your heels, crying, " Backsheesh," and the squalid, half- 
dressed men and women creep to the doors and gaze 
vacantly at you. The houses are of mud and stones, 
one story high, so that you see the tops of the houses 
as you ride, with sometimes a Moslem on them say- 
ing his prayers towards Mecca, or a lazy group cook- 
ing themselves in the sun. Our Thanksgiving dinner 
was a great success. We had brought a turkey es- 
pecially from Bey rout, and a choice bottle of wine. 
Antoine made us a superb plum pudding, we drank 
everybody's health at home, and were supremely pa- 
triotic. Then we smoked our pipes and went to bed, 
and I for one dreamed I was in America. 

Friday morning early, off again up the valley of 
Sigaya, past several little villages, over hot stones, till 
we lunched by a heap of rocks in an open field, the 
only shade for miles and miles. Then in the after- 



DAMASCUS. 43 

noon we began to get into a deep gorge, and soon 
came to a fine waterfall, and so felt we were getting 
somewhere near Damascus, because this was the river 
Barada, formerly the Abana. (" Are not Abana and 
Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the 
waters of Israel ? ") 

We kept along this stream, passed the old town of 
Abila, the scenery growing finer and finer all the 
afternoon. On a hilltop close by we saw the old tomb 
of Abel, the son of Adam, and so about dusk came to 
the beautiful foimtain of El Fijeh, where we camped. 
It is a spring g-ushing out of the rock, over which stand 
two ruined temples, surrounded by deep groves. It is 
one of the sources of the Abana. We slept here, and 
the next morning left early, crossed the last range of 
Anti-Lebanon, and, as we climbed the final peak and 
stood beside a little ruined dome upon its top, there 
was Damascus in the valley, with its beauty all about 
it. No city ever looked so lovely ; a broad girdle of 
gardens encircles it, and its domes and minarets fill 
up the picture within, while the Abana on one side 
and the Pharphar on the other come bringing their 
tribute of waters to it. We were soon down the hill, 
and a quick trot carried us tlirough the gardens, thick 
with pomegranates, oranges, and citrons, into the town 
itseK, where for a day or two we exchanged tent life 
for that at the Grand Hotel. 

Now about the town. This is the most picturesque 
of Oriental cities, where you see nothing but Orien- 
tals, no Frank hat but your own ; where Bedouins 
fresh from the desert crowd you in the streets ; 
where you sit in the court-yard of your hotel, hear 
the fountain splashing in the centre, and see the 
orange-trees around it ; where the promenade is on 



44 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

the house-toj), and the narrow streets are full of dogs, 
donkeys, and camels. It is a delightful town ; and 
then its history I Here is the street called " Straight," 
where Judas lived, keeping its old name (see Acts 
ix). They show you the house of Judas, where Paul 
lodged, and the house of Ananias. On the wall you 
see the place where Paul was let down in the basket, 
and even the place of his conversion is kept by a 
tradition ; nay, more, the old house of Naaman the 
Syrian is shown, with a hospital for lepers close by it. 
The poor creatures came and begged alms of us as we 
were looking. And the old mosque which was once 
a Christian church is said to have been, further back, 
the " House of Rimmon " of the old Testament. At 
any rate here is the old town, and all these things 
were here, and the life in this old stagnant East is 
just about the same to-day that it was then. 

This morning I went to the Greek church and saw 
a miserable mummery. This was my only church- 
going. There are not enough English here to keep 
up an English service. The English consul, Mr. 
Rogers, called on us last night, and says he is almost 
alone here. 

You will wonder why I have written you all this. 
The truth is, I have written partly for myseK. I don't 
dare to hope that it will all interest you, but I want 
to keep a pretty full account of this Syrian trip, and 
so put it down day by day. Please keep my letters. 
To-morrow we leave for Csesarea and Tyre. You will 
see our route is somewhat changed since I wrote to 
mother. I hope to get letters from you all at Jeru- 
salem at Christmas. I am perfectly well, with good 
spirits and lots of appetite, but sometimes I think 
how good it will be to get home again and think this 



SYRIA. 45 

over. I wonder how you all do, and I pray you are 
well. Good-by; I don't know when you will get 
this, probably not till after New Year's, when I shall 
be in Egypt or in Greece. I am thirty years old 
next week. God bless and keep you all. 

Phillips. 

In Tent at Rascheya, Syria, 
Tuesday, December 5, 1865. 

Dear William, — I wrote to father from Damas- 
cus on Sunday, and I will continue my plan of a jour- 
nal while I am in Syria. I want you to keep the 
letters, for they will be all that I shall have to recall 
the details of my route. Let 's see, then. Monday 
morning, early, we went out with the janizary of the 
British consul, who was kindly loaned for the occasion, 
and went over the great mosque. Except for its his- 
tory, there is not much of interest about it, but it is 
curious here, as in St. Sophia and elsewhere, to see 
how in changing a Cliristian church to Moslem pur- 
poses they have left ever so many Christian emblems 
uneffaced ; the communion cup is still upon the bronze 
doors, and the outside has a walled up doorway with 
the inscription, " Thy Kingdom, O Christ, is an ever- 
lasting Kingdom, and thy Dominion endureth from 
generation to generation." After the mosque, we 
roamed about the bazaars, especially a dim little pic- 
turesque hole where the silversmiths of Damascus do 
their beautiful work. 

At two o'clock we were on horseback again, and rid- 
ing out on the French road, through the gardens that 
girdle the city, along the sparkling Abana. We said 
good-by to Damascus, and encamped for the night at 
Dinas, a little village about twelve miles off in the 



46 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Anti-Lebanon mountains. The niglit was very cold, 
and early tliis morning we were off, and liave ridden 
eight hours to-day, still over the Anti-Lebanon. We 
passed an old castle and temple in ruins about noon, 
perhaps one of the old Baal temples which abounded 
in this region of Hermon. Then we stopped and 
lunched under a little gToup of trees by the wayside, 
and at last, after a hard day's ride, came to our camp- 
gToimd. It is a larger village than usual, but very 
forlorn. There is an old castle on the hill, to which 
we wandered before dinner and saw its Tui'kish gar- 
rison. This was one of the towns where the massacre 
of the Christians by the Druses was most terrible in 
1860, and much of it is still in ruins. But the most 
interesting thing of all is Mt. Hermon. There it lies 
to-night above the town, with its broad top covered 
with snow, — a splendid old hill, the northern limit of 
Palestine. We have had it in sight from time to time 
for a week, and here we are close to its feet, and, sit- 
ting among our Syrians round our fire, we fancy we 
can see the old Israelites doing " their idolatry on this 
one of the high places," where the old altar still 
stands. Here, just now, came the commander of cav- 
alry from the pasha of the town, to offer the Franks 
his profound regards and any help they wanted. You 
should have heard the palaver that went on between 
us with our good Ibrahim for interpreter. 

Caivip at C^sakea Phllippi, 
Thursday Evening, December 7. 

Here we are, encamped in a gTove of old olive- 
trees close to Banyas, which is on the site of the old 
Caesarea Philippi on one of the southern spurs of Mt. 
Hermon, and close to the source of the Jordan. Yes- 



CJESAREA PHILIPPL 47 

terclay morning we broke up camp at Rascheya, and 
started across the Anti-Lebanon mountains to visit tlie 
great gorge and natural bridge of the Litany. It was 
a terrible day's ride. We were in the saddle ten 
hours, over the most abominable road. We reached 
the gorge about three o'clock, and were well repaid. 
The river is very fine, and the great chasm through 
which it breaks its way is bold and picturesque. We 
then went to Hasbeya, whither our mules had pre- 
ceded us by a shorter route, and where we arrived 
after dark. This morning we rode from there over 
rough hills, till at last we came out into the Jordan 
valley, and saw far off before us the waters of Lake 
Merom, through which the Jordan flows. It was a 
pleasant ride then around the spur of Mt. Hermon, 
which we are getting to know like an old friend, over 
fields full of the crocus, or, as our dragoman called 
it, " the lily of the field," which was very beautiful, 
and neither sowing nor spinning, till we came in sight 
of the great castle on the hill and soon rode into this 
little village. 

Here we lunched, drinking the Jordan water, and 
then spent^the afternoon in wandering about where 
the sacred river bursts out of a deep cave on which 
was built first the Temple of Baal, then of the Greek 
god Pan, then of the Roman Caesar, and now there 
stands there a little white Mohammedan mosque. 
The whole scene is very beautiful. The Jordan runs 
in many streams among the ruins, and is overgrown 
with laurels and olives. The present village is mis- 
erably mean. Its inhabitants are Mohammedans, and 
in the mountains around are the wild Bedouins. This 
is the first night we have kept watch. This, you know, 
is the place where Christ had the conversation with 



48 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

St. Peter, and many put tlie Transfiguration on some 
one of tlie spurs of Hermon which surround us. This 
is the first spot that we have touclied wliere Christ 
himself has been, and it is full of interest. Our 
weather is still perfect, and to-night soft and warm, 
with gorgeous starlight. An English gentleman and 
his sister, going from Jerusalem to Damascus, are 
encamped close to us. 

Tyke, Sunday Afternoon, 
December 10, 1S65. 

Please get your Bible and read Ezekiel's Prophecy, 
and then imagine me set down among the ruins of 
this old Queen of the Seas. Friday morning we left 
Banyas and rode across the plain of Huleh or Merom. 
Here we stopped and saw another of the foimtains of 
the Jordan at Laish or Dan. You will find all about 
it in Judges xviii. It is a beautiful spot, a little hill 
with springs bursting out all around its roots, and 
running in many channels down the fertile plain 
towards Lake Merom. Now we have reached the 
northern border, and may look over into Palestine 
from Dan towards Beersheba. Out of the plain we 
struck again into the moimtains, and lunched by a 
picturesque little bridge over the Litany, under the 
shadow of a sj)lendid gTeat Phoenician castle, famous 
in Crusaders' history, which overlooks all the country 
from a lofty hill. ^\^e spent that night at the village 
of Nabatiya. It was our first rainy night, and what 
with the tent j)ins gi^^ng way and the Syrian floods 
poiu-ing down through the thin places of our tent 
roof and the high wind making the sides rattle terri- 
bly, we had an exciting night of it. Next morning 
we were off in the rain, striking right for the coast. 
About noon we saw the sea, and limched on a hill that 



TYRE. 49 

overlooks it, near tlie little village of Toosa. Tlien 
it cleared up, and our afternoon's ride was glorious. 
We wound down tlie hill, crossed our old friend the 
Litany near its moutli, and so saw the last of it, and 
then kept down the shore with Tyre right before us, 
reachino' it in about three hours. It used to be an 
island, but Alexander built a causeway out to it, and 
the water has heaped up the sand on both sides of the 
isthmus till it is a broad-necked peninsula. It is the 
most ruined of ruins. An old church, once splendid, 
in which Orioen and Frederick Barbarossa were 
buried, is the only building they ever jiretend to 
show and that you can hardly make out at all. Every- 
thing else is gone. 

The seashore is lined with piles of splendid marble 
and granite columns, worn out of shape by the waters 
and haK sunk in the sand. The place where Hiram 
lived in magnificence may have been this poor little 
house which we have hired to spend Sunday in. It 
has one big room tlirough which the family of queer- 
looking people whom we have dispossessed circulate 
continually, and where we three sleep and eat while 
our cookery goes on in the yard outside. The whole 
island is only about three quarters by one half mile, 
and half of this now is utterly covered with rubbish. 
But the view is splendid to-day. On one side we look 
out upon the noble Mediterranean, and feel (at least 
I do) as if the stretch of waters established some sort 
of communication with home. On the other side 
stretches the long coast, with the hills of Lebanon 
skirting it, and old Hermon with his snowy top, the 
watch-tower of all this countrj^, glistening in the sun 
beyond. Just romid that point up the coast lies 
Sidon, the mother -city of this Tyre, and the little 



60 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

white mosque on the hill this side of it marks the 
place of Sarepta, the town where Elijah met the 
widow. 

All our yesterday's ride was through the coasts of 
Tyre and Sidon, and any spot our horses passed may 
have been the scene of Christ's meeting with the Syro- 
phoenician woman. " What city is like to Tyrus, to the 
destroyed in the midst of the sea." Being the only 
Franks in town, we make some little sensation. All 
day the Star-Spangled Banner has been seen flying in 
our honor on the house of an old gentleman who acts 
here as our consular agent for the transaction of no- 
body knows what business, and this afternoon he sent 
us word that he would be glad to have us visit him. 
We went, of course, taking Ibrahim for interpreter, 
and were soon squatted on a divan around a room 
whose only other furniture was the rugs on the floor. 
Narghilehs and coffee were brought, and then we made 
civil speeches to each other, which were duly translated, 
and left with lots of salaams and wishes for eternal 
prosperity. Then our quarters have been besieged all 
day with natives small and large, male and female, 
bringing " Antikers," as they call them, rings, coins, 
seals, etc., dug up among the ruins, for us to buy at big 
prices. Fortunately Apple ton is a coin collector, and 
so satisfies them for the party. 

These last two weeks have been like a curious sort 
of dream; all the old Bible story has seemed so 
strangely about us, — the great flocks of sheep that 
we meet everywhere, wandering with their wild shep- 
herds over the hills ; the lines of loaded camels that go 
laboring across the horizon ; the sowers in the field 
scattering their seed, half on the stony ground (it is 
almost paved with stones), and half among the great 



HAIFA. 51 

thorn bushes that grow up every-where ; the little 
villages, half a dozen every day, with the people on 
the house-tops ; the wild men of the desert, who come 
suddenly in your way among the hills ; and the fam- 
ilies with mules and asses, women and children, who 
seem to have no purpose in their traveling but just to 
fill up your picture for you. Far off to the east, 
from time to time the high hills, the hills of Bashan. 
(Think of being in the dominions of that old Og 
whom we have always read of in the Esalter.) Olive- 
trees, palms, fig-trees and pomegranates, all this, and 
Lebanon, Damascus, Hermon, Jordan, Csesarea, and 
Tyre ; it certainly makes a strange two weeks. The 
next two will be fuller still from here to Jerusalem. 
You shall hear of it. . . . 

I shall send this from Acre. I hope you will get 
these Eastern letters. Good-by now. God bless you 
all. 

Phill. 

Haifa, at the foot of Mt. Cariviel, 
Monday Evening-, December 12, 1865. 

Deak Mothek, — I sent a letter to William from 
Tyre, which I hope he received. I will carry on my 
story from there. We left Tyre early yesterday morn- 
ing, and as we rode out saw the fishermen spreading 
their nets on the rocks, as the old Prophecy of Eze- 
kiel, you know, foretells. It was a lovely morning, and 
the seashore was sparkling in the early light as we 
came across on to the mainland and struck down the 
coast. We passed, yesterday, a group of fine old 
fountains and pieces of moss-grown aqueducts, where 
the city of old Tyre stood, and a beautiful little 
spring on a hill where was once a town called Alexan- 



52 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

clros K}me, or Alexander's Tent. It is said tlie great 
conqueror lodged there on his way to besiege Tjo-e. 
In the afternoon we climbed over a great white cliff 
which runs out into the sea and is called the Tj^rian 
Ladder. It is the southern limit of Phoenicia, and 
below it Palestine begins. Soon after, we came to 
our camjjing-place at the little village of Eszib, whose 
old name was Achzib, which you will find in Judges i. 
31, and was one of the towns given to Asher, but 
never captured by them. We camped close by the 
well, and all the evening women were coming for the 
water, which an old man, sitting on top of the well, 
drew for them ; the scene was very picturesque, but 
the town, except for one or two splendid ]3alm-trees 
and a noble sea coast, is forlorn. 

To-day we have been riding down the coast. The 
scene is all changed. We are in the plain of Acre, a 
rich country, the very sight of which lets you under- 
stand how Asher " dipped his foot in oil " and " his 
bread was fat, and he yielded royal dainties." All 
along the coast are the creeks and bays where he lin- 
gered when Deborah reproached him with " abiding 
in his breaches." We rode past golden orange or- 
chards, and ate the fruit fresh from the tree. About 
noon we came to Acre, an old city formerly called 
Ptolemais, whose princij)al history belongs to the Cru- 
sades and to Naj^oleon's time. We w^ent through it ; 
saw the fortifications and the ruins of an old church, 
but there was not much to look at. After it, came a 
long beach of twelve miles, stretching from Acre to 
where Mt. Carmel runs out its grand promontory into 
the sea. We crossed this rapidly, and just before we 
reached Carmel came to the mouth of a swdft river, 
where we sat down under a palm-tree and lunched. 



HAIFA. 53 

It was " that ancient river, tlie river Kishon." It 
comes up from the plain of Esdraelon and passing 
through the Carmel Mount runs into the sea near this 
town of Haifa, which lies at the foot of the hill, and 
in which our tent is now pitched. The old stream 
looks strong enough to sweep away another Sisera, 
but Carmel is what we came here for. There it is 
with all its " excellency," a long ridge running far out 
into the sea and back into the rich country, with 
Sharon on its south and the plain of Acre on its north. 
There is the place where Elijah and the priests of 
Baal had their trial, and there is the ridge where his 
servant went up and looked seven times till he saw 
the little cloud rising out of that bright Mediterranean, 
which has not had a cloud on it to-day. All is clear 
as if we saw the prophet's altar burning. This after- 
noon we climbed the cliff to where the convent stands 
overlooking the sea. The Carmelite brothers received 
us hospitably. They are jolly, comfortable-looking 
fellows, with brown coarse coats and cowls. In their 
church they take you down under the high altar and 
show you the cave where EKjah hid from Jezebel. It 
is fitted up in their tawdry style with a small chapel. 
HaKway down the hill is another, larger cave, called 
the Cave of the Sons of the Prophets, where it is said 
Elijah received the chiefs of the people. This is in 
the hands of the Mohammedans and is fitted up for 
their worship, so curiously are things mixed up here. 
But the mountain itself, and its glorious view, is just 
what it was in Elijah's time, wooded to the top, look- 
ing out on beauty and richness everywhere. West- 
ward, over the blue sea, north along the splendid bay 
of Acre, over the great fertile plain to the Lebanon 
hills in the distance, with Hermon's white head look- 



54 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

ing over them, east into Galilee to the hills of Kedesli- 
Naphtali and the fertile plain of Esdraelon, and south 
along the beautiful coast over the smooth pasture-land 
of Sharon, what a place for a prophet, and what a 
scene for the great trial of his faith I Below, the 
Kishon runs through the plain as if it were still tell- 
ing to-night of how he took the prophets of Baal and 
slew them there. We sleep under the shadow of Car- 
mel. I am very tired, and all is still, except the jack- 
als screaming in the distance. Good-night. I wish I 
were going to bed in that back room at home. 

Nazaketh, Wednesday Evening', 
December 13, 1865. 

We are encamped on this my thirtieth birthday in 
a group of olive-trees just by the fountain of Naza- 
reth. We left Haifa early this morning and rode 
along the base of Carmel for several hours, then 
struck across the plain, crossing the Kishon by a deep 
and rapid ford. Soon after we came to the first of 
the Galilee hills, and climbing it saw Mt. Tabor, 
the great mountain of Galilee, before us, and the 
plain of Esdraelon stretched out between it and 
Carmel. It was just the landscape which I have 
always expected in Palestine, — low, round, wooded 
hills, and rich plains between. Tabor is the finest, 
most beautifully shaped of the sacred hills, a soft 
smooth cone with wooded sides and top. We rode 
on all the afternoon through hills and glens, till 
about four o'clock, when we came suddenly to the top 
of a steep hill, and there lay Nazareth below us. It 
was a strange feeling to ride down through it and 
look in the people's faces and think how Christ must 
have been about these streets just like these children. 



NAZARETH. 55 

and the Virgin like these women, and to look into 
tke carpenters' shops and see tlie Nazarenes at their 
work. The town lies in a sort of gorge, haKway 
up the side of a pretty steep hill. As soon as our 
horses were left at the camp, we climbed the " hill on 
which the cits^ was built," and saw what is perhaps the 
finest view in Palestine. I thought all the time I 
was looking at it how often Jesus must have climbed 
up here and enjoyed it. There were the Lebanon hills 
and Hermon to the north. Tabor to the east, and a 
line of low mountains, behind which lie unseen the 
Sea of Tiberias and the Jordan ; beyond them, the 
hills of Moab stretching towards the south. On the 
southern side the noble plain of Esdraelon, the battle- 
field of Jewish history, with Mt. Gilboa stretching 
into it, where Saul and Jonathan were killed. Jez- 
reel lies like a little white speck on the side of Gilboa, 
and Little Hermon rises up between. On the west, 
the plain is closed by the long, dark line of Carmel, 
stretching into the sea, and the sight that His eyes 
saw farthest oif was that line of the Mediterranean 
over which His power was to spread to the ends of 
the world. It is a most noble view. The hill is 
crowned with ruins of the tomb of some old Moslem 
saint. It is the same hill up which they took Jesus, 
to cast Him down from the cliff. The scene was 
very impressive in the evening light. 

"When we came down we went to the villao*e foun- 
tain, where the women of the town were drawing- 
water. Such a clatter and crowd ! Some of them 
were quite pretty, and the sight was very Oriental, as 
they walked off w4th their water-pots upon their 
heads. The Greeks, by their tradition, put the An- 
nunciation at this fountain ; the Latins have a grotto 



66 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

for it, wliicli tliey say was Mary's house. Tliis is a 
good place to keep a birtliday, is n't it ? Our tent 
fire is burning bright, and I shall sit by it a little 
while and then to bed. 



Tiberias, Thursday Evening, 
December 14, 1865. 

Our tents are pitched to-night by the Sea of Galilee, 
in the ruins of the old castle of Tiberias. We spent 
this forenoon in continuing our survey of Nazareth. 
First, we went to see the place of the Annunciation. 
We entered the church of the Franciscan monastery 
while service was going on. After it was over, a 
monk took us down under the altar into a cave, fitted 
up richly for a chapel, imder the altar of which is a 
black marble cross, to mark the place where Mary 
stood. Opposite it are two stone pillars, between 
which the angel came. One of them is broken 
through, so that a piece hangs from the ceiling, and 
a piece stands up from the floor. They say the Mos- 
lems tried to break the cave down, and coidd n't. 
From this cave a stairway leads up into another, a 
second room of the house. Over the altar of the 
Annmiciation is a good picture of the scene, and 
around the cross are ever-burning silver lamps. It is 
a pretty and impressive spot, and there is no impos- 
sibility about its being the place. 

We went then to the carpenter's shop of Joseph, 
and the s^Tiagogiie where Christ preached. Both are 
modern churches, and there is nothing interesting 
about either. Then to the church where the Greeks 
celebrate the Annunciation. They place it at a foun- 
tain under a tawdry old church, and take you down 
into a cave, where they have their lamps around their 



TIBERIAS. 57 

cross, and a well from which a monk draws up water 
and gives you to drink out of a silver cup. The old 
church was very prettily fidl of birds flying about. 
These are the sights of Nazareth, but its old streets 
and the view from the hill are its true interest, and 
those I shall never forget. We said good-by to it, 
and left it lying among the hills, where Jesus must 
have looked back upon it the last time He went 
out. 

A quick ride of five hours brought us here. We 
Imiched at Cana of Galilee, at least at a little village 
which one legend calls so. There is another claimant 
to the name which we saw in the distance ; either 
may be the place. Both are so situated that you 
can picture Jesus and His mother going out from 
Nazareth to a near town to attend the marriage to 
which they had been invited. Ours was a forlorn little 
town, in wliich we stopped at a wretched church, 
where a cross-legged master was teaching twenty 
cross-legged boys to read their Arabic. Against the 
wall were built in what looked like two fonts, about 
the size of that in my church. This is said to be the 
house of the marriage. Then we rode on through a 
rolling country which Jesus must have often walked, 
on His way back and forth between Nazareth and the 
lake. The whole country, every hill and valley, 
seemed marked with His foot-prints. At last we 
came to a broad plain with one round hill rising 
out of it. Here the last great battle of the Crusades 
was fought, and Saladin finally conquered the 
Christians. Legend calls the hill " The Hill of the 
Beatitudes," and says it is where the Sermon on the 
Mount was preached. Perhaps it is. Opposite is 
another hill, where they say Christ fed the multitude, 



68 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

but that must have beeu on the other side of the 
lake. Another ridge climbed, and there was the 
" Sea of Galilee, wliich is the Sea of Tiberias." 
There it lay in the soft afternoon light, blue among 
the purple hills. There were the waves He walked, 
the shores where He taught, the mountains where He 
prayed. With Hermon's white head to the north, 
mth the steep Moab hills coming to its brink on the 
east, with its low western shore where the old city 
stood, with Safed " the city set on a hill "off to the 
northwest, it was a sight not to be forgotten. I 
have hardly ever enjoyed an hour more than the one 
we spent in winding down the ridge into Tiberias. 
The town lies on the lake shore ; it is miserable and 
dirty. It has a population of wretched Jews, who are 
rascally-looking creatures in black felt hats, and long- 
elf locks. The women are horribly tattooed with ink. 
" Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile." So 
ends a most interesting day. By the way, looking 
into a house-door at Nazareth, this morning, I saw 
" two women grinding together at the mill " sitting 
together on the floor, and working the upper mill- 
stone round upon the lower by a handle, which they 
both grasped. 

Our weather is still splendid, and to-night is soft 
and warm as June. Good-night. 

TiBEKiAs, Friday, December 15, 1865. 

To-day has been a perfect day, cloudless and warm, 
and we have spent it in seeing this wonderful lake. 
We were ready early, and our horses were brought out 
because there was a fresh wind blowing and the timid 
fishermen would not venture the one boat, which is 
now the only craft of the lake, upon the water. So 



TIBERIAS. 59 

we must ride. We left the old walls of Tiberias be- 
hind us, and rode northward along the western shore. 
Tiberias itself is a miserable town, but its walls 
show that it was once fine, and it was new and at its 
best in Jesus' day. After crossing one or two ridges, 
with their intervening valleys, we came out on a 
plain three miles long and extending back a mile or 
two, flat and fertile, from the beach. This is the 
" land of Gennesaret." Just as we entered it from 
the hills, we came to a little group of twenty or thirty 
dirty huts with a ruined tower near them. This is 
Magdala, the native town of Mary Magdalene. The 
Arabs still call it Med j el. We rode across the plain, 
through the oleander bushes that skirt the shore, and 
at its other end came to an old ruined klian, a foun- 
tain gushing out under an old fig-tree, and an acre 
or more covered with old foundations and heaps of 
stones. Kight in the midst was a wretched burial 
ground, and three poor Bedouins were digging, as we 
passed, a grave for a body that lay wrapped in its 
blankets on the ground beside them. This is Caper- 
naum, the home of Christ after Nazareth rejected 
Him. " And thou Capernaum." Passing this, we 
climbed a cliff, and, keeping a narrow road cut in the 
rock, came by and by to another beach, and beyond 
it to a snug little cove, just the place for fishing-boats 
to be drawn up, with nothing on the shore but some 
old ruined aqueducts, and some reservoirs, one of 
them now used for a mill. Not a living soul was 
there. This is Bethsaida, the city of John and 
James, Peter and Andrew. We kept along then a 
mile or so farther, and came to another heap of ruins 
interspersed with miserable huts, and the black tents 
of Bedouins, who are in temporary occupation. This 



60 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

is Chorazin. There are ruins of some fine build- 
ings here, cohimns, capitals, etc., but this is probably 
later than Jesus' time. Here we lunched, sitting in 
the shadow of one of the huts, with the Bedouins oath- 
ered on its roof, staring at us. They seemed harm- 
less, but would be bad enough if they had the chance. 
There were some good faces among them. I noticed 
especially one sweet - looking little girl, whom it 
seemed hard to leave in such keeping. These are the 
cities " wherein many of His mighty works were 
done," — all ruined and gone. We tiu-ned back 
here ; our dragoman would not let us go farther, for 
fear of Bedouins. We saw in the distance where 
the Jordan enters into the lake, and then riding back 
to Tiberias, made the fisherman take us out to row 
on the lake. It was strange to see him, as we reached 
the middle, and the hoiu^ of prayer arrived, leave 
his rudder, and spreading his cloak on the floor of the 
boat, kneel towards Mecca and with many gestures 
say his evening prayers. AH this on the lake of 
Gennesaret. But religions are all mixed up here. 
We had the Tiberias fish for breakfast this morning, 
but they were so bad we could only taste them. To- 
morrow we leave the lake, but I shall never forget 
how it has looked to-day. 

Nazaketh, Satnrday Eyening, 
December 16, 1865. 

We have returned here to spend Simday. Oiu' 
road from Tiberias was different from the one we 
took in going there, and was arranged to take in Mt. 
Tabor. It has been a hard day's ride, nine hours and 
a half on the way. The only point of interest was 
Tabor. After keeping it in sight all the forenoon. 



NAZARETH. 61 

we reached its foot about twelve o'clock, and climbed 
it slowly. The ascent is not long, and there is a sort 
of road, but very rough. You wind up through oak- 
trees, scattered among the rocks, and about an hour 
brings you out on the top, where there are the ruins 
of an old town, and a convent of Greek monks. The 
view is noble, though not equal to the Nazareth hill. 
The beautiful plain of Esdraelon stretches to the west, 
with Carmel closing it in. On the south lies Little 
Hermon, " the Little Hill of Hermon," with Endor 
and Nain upon its sides, and the mountains of Gilboa 
showing their heads beyond. To the west you can 
just see a bit of the lake, and trace the valley where 
it lies and where the Jordan runs, with the table-land 
of Bashan stretching out beyond, and the blue hills of 
Gilead farther off still. To the northwest there is 
old Hermon, still with his snow, so that we have the 
two great mountains associated. " Tabor and Her- 
mon shall rejoice in Thy name." You know that 
Tabor has been held to be the mountain of Transfigu- 
ration. There is no authority for it but tradition, 
and I for one am well convinced that some one of the 
ridges of Hermon is far more likely to be the place. 
But Tabor is very beautiful, and has been always one 
of the sacred places. We met on the top a poor 
Abyssinian priest, who had come all the way hither 
on a pilgrimage, and now clings about here, living on 
charity. He kissed my hands and called down unintel- 
ligible blessings when I gave him five piastres. A 
hard afternoon's ride brought us to our old camping- 
ground, surrounded by hedges of cactus, among the 
gnarled old olive-trees beside the fountain of Naza- 
reth. 

Here we shall rest ourselves and our horses for a 



62 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

day in this old town, wliicli with the sea of Galilee has 
more attraction for me than anything else that I have 
seen. Next week to Jerusalem. 

I put you in two " lilies of the field " from Mt. 
Carmel, and two purple oleander blossoms from the 
" land of Gennesaret," between Magdala and Caper- 
naum. 

Sunday Evening, December 17, 1865. 

I have had a very pleasant, quiet Sunday here at 
Nazareth. This morning I went to the Greek church 
and heard their usual boisterous and disagreeable 
service. The forenoon we spent in reading and rest- 
ing. It was warm as siunmer, the tent curtains wide 
open, the babble at the fountain all day. This after- 
noon to the Latin church, where a very impressive 
mass was performed before the altar of the Annunci- 
ation. The chanting with an organ (the first I have 
heard since Vienna) and hojs^ voices was very fine. 
A strange group of Bedouins, women, children, and 
all odd costumes, kneeling on the altar stairs. After 
service Appleton and I took a walk into the country, 
and saw what we have seen all along, the shepherds 
leading (not driving) their flocks and carrying the 
weak ones in their arms. All day the people have 
gathered round to look at us. It is touching to hear 
the poor peoj^le tell of how they suffered from the 
locusts in the spring. They came in clouds, covering 
the ground haK a foot deep, as large as sparrows ; all 
the shops and houses were closed for days. Every 
green thing was eaten up. It sounded like a chapter 
out of Joel. It is sad, too, to hear them talk of their 
government. All spirit is gone out of them, and they 
only wait the inevitable dropping to pieces of the rotten 



JENIN. 63 

thing, which all expect. The English missionary here 
called to see us this afternoon. 



Jenin, Monday Evening-, 
December 18, 1865. 

To-day has been very interesting. We were off 
bright and early, and left Nazareth behind us among 
its hills. Crossing a very bad, rocky ridge, we came 
down into the great plain of Esdraelon and crossed its 
eastern end, between Tabor and Little Hermon, vv^here 
Deborah and Barak gathered their troops before the 
battle with Sisera. Keeping part way up Little Her- 
mon, we came to a forlorn village. The people were 
a little dirtier and more rascally looking, the hovels 
a little viler, than any yet. We rode through it w^ to 
a large cave in the hillside, some twenty feet deep, 
with a spring in it and a fig-tree beside it. The 
village is Endor, and this cave is shown as the place 
where the witch called up Samuel. Certainly, the 
town looks as if it had had a crop of witches ever since, 
and were growing another for the next generation. 
We left it with the whole population crying out 
for " backsheesh " and throwing stones at us. Keep- 
ing along the side of Little Hermon, in about an hour 
we came to Nain, another wretched collection of some 
twenty huts, where you could imagine the beautiful 
scene of the miracle at the gate. Thence around the 
end of Little Hermon to its southern slope, where we 
came to Shunem, the scene of the pretty story of the 
Shunammite woman and Elisha. The village is a lit- 
tle larger than usual, with more bad smells and dogs. 
Below it, in the plain, lay the fields where the boy 
went with his father to see the reapers ; and far off is 
Carmel, to which the mother rode to fetch the man 



64 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

of God. There is a reality about these things here 
which is very enjoyable. An hour's ride, now across 
the plain, brought us to the fountain of Jezreel, a 
spring and great j)ool of water at the foot of a steep 
rock. This, you know, was the scene of two great 
events : first, the destruction of the Midianites by 
Gideon (here is the very pool of which his soldiers 
drank or lapped), and the defeat of Saul by the Philis- 
tines. Here is where his army lay. The Philistines 
were opposite, at Shunem. Over that ridge of Little 
Hermon he went the night before the battle to con- 
sult the witch. Behind us rise the mountains of Gil- 
boa, in whose high places he was killed, and down the 
plain towards the Jordan you see the ruins of old 
Beth-shan, where his body was exposed. We limched 
by the fountain, and then rode along the side of the 
Gilboa range to its western slope, where is Jezreel, 
the palace of Ahab, the home of Jezebel, the place 
where her body was thrown out to the dogs. The 
wretched creatures were prowling about there still, as 
we passed through. It is a miserable village of huts 
now, but you look across the plain and see where, 
after the miracle on Carmel, Elijah ran before Ahab 
" to the entrance of Jezreel." 

From here we have been keeping all the afternoon 
along the southern slope of Gilboa to this point. The 
hills of Samaria have been full in view. Far off 
across the plain, by Carmel, are dimly seen Taanach 
and Megiddo, the towns of Deborah's song. The 
white mosque of Jenin came in sight at &ve o'clock, 
and here we are in tent again. This place is 23rettily 
situated, but has nothing remarkable. It is the old 
En-gannim of Joshua xxi. 29. The day has been 
overcast, but no rain ; to-night is clear, and I am very 



NABLOUS. 65 

tired. Four months to-day since I landed at Queens- 
town. I have not forgotten that this is George's 
birthday. 

Nablous (Shechem), 
Tuesday Evening', December 19. 

Another very interesting day. The days become 
more interesting as we approach Jerusalem. We were 
to go from Galilee to Judea, " and must needs pass 
thi'ough Samaria." Shortly after we left Jenin, crossing 
a range of hills, we saw, two miles on our left, a small 
" tell " or hill which is the old Dothan, whence Joseph 
went to seek his brethren, and where they sold 
him to the Midianites. We rode on all the morning, 
over hills and plains, the hills occasionally opening 
to the east, and letting us see the plain of Sharon 
and the blue sea beyond. About noon we saw be- 
fore us the terraced hill of Samaria, and lunched by 
and by among the olives on its northern side. It is 
full of the interest of Elisha, and the old Israelite 
kings, and the visit of Philip in the Acts. I read 
over 2 Kings vi. and vii. on horseback. The place is 
full of ruins of the old Roman time, when it was re- 
built by Herod and called Sebaste. Countless col- 
umns are scattered aroimd, and some standing. The 
prophecy seems strangely fulfilled. Some are rolled 
down the hills, and the husbandmen were ploughing 
among them, all over the old site. The present vil- 
lage is miserable ; we rode into it after dinner, and 
were surrounded by the population like fleas. There 
is an old church of St. John in whose ruins is now a 
wretched mosque. A long quarrel and fifteen piastres 
" backsheesh " gained us admission, and in a little 
subterranean room, whose walls were covered with 
defaced crosses, they showed us what they called the 



66 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

tomb of Jolin the Baptist. It is a very old tradition. 
As we rode out of to^ii, we were chased by the chil- 
dren, with much dirt on them and very little clothes, 
screaming what Ibrahim told us meant " Ho, Chris- 
tians ! Ho, Jews ! May the Lord leave not a bit of 
you." 

The afternoon's ride was lovely. The fields dark 
green with young wheat and barley, dotted with the 
light gray green of the olive-trees. And here we are 
now at Sheehem. Before us is Mt. Ebal, behind us 
is Mt. Gerizim. Here is where Jacob bought " the 
parcel of ground ; " where the cui'ses and the blessings 
were j)ronounced from hill to hill across this am]5ithe- 
atre, where the town lies and where the Ark stood. 
Here is where Joshua collected his tribes for his last 
charge, and more than all, here is where Jesus came 
and lived two days after his conversation with the wo- 
man at the well which we shall see to-morrow. The 
city itself is large and charmingly old and quaint. 
There are about fifteen hundi'ed Samaritans left, the 
only remnant of their people. We have been to see 
their synagogue, a dingy little hole, where a splen- 
did old priest, in red turban and gray beard, showed 
us their famous roll of the Pentateuch, which they 
claim is thirty -two hundred years old, and written 
by the son of Eleazer, son of Aaron. There is a 
very fine old mosque too. As we passed through 
the streets, the small boys cursed us and spit at us. 
Think of that for a free American citizen to stand. 
Two days more to Jerusalem. To-night we sleep 
under the shadow of Gerizim. Good-night. It will 
be good to get your letters by next Thursday. 

Phillips. 



JERUSALEM. 67 

Mediterranean Hotel, Jerusalem, 
Friday Morning-, December 22, 1865. 

I add another half sheet, just to say that we are in 
Jerusalem. We arrived last night about five o'clock, 
and I am writing now, before breakfast, with my 
window looking out on the Mount of Olives. I 
can hardly realize that I am here. Our day's ride 
yesterday was rocky and tiresome. " The hills stand 
about Jerusalem " and make the approach slow. The 
only especially interesting places were Bethel, a poor 
little village, on a plateau surrounded by hills. 
There is nothing attractive in the site, and nothing in 
the town ; but every association makes it interesting. 
Ramah stood up on our left, a village with an old 
square tower. In the middle of the afternoon, Neby- 
Samuel, the old Mizpah, where Samuel is buried, rose 
high on our right, and just before we saw Jerusalem 
we crossed the side of a high hill, which is the old 
Gibeah of Saul. 

It was about four when we rode up the slope of the 
hill of Scopus, and got all at once the full sight of 
Jerusalem. It lies nobly surrounded by its moun- 
tains, and overlooked on the eastern side by the Mount 
of Olives, which, though only a hill, is higher than I 
thought. Between it and the city is the valley of 
Jehoshaphat. We entered the city on the north by 
the Damascus gate. The first sound I heard in it 
was the muezzin on a minaret calling the Moslems to 
prayers. The interior of the city is like all Eastern 
towns, filthy, narrow, noisy, and when the novelty is 
off disgusting, but I am not going to write about the 
city now. I am here, and there is the Mount of 
Olives right before me. 

I fear a little of my first enthusiasm on arriving at 



68 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Jerusalem may have been in tlie prospect of a tem- 
porary return to some of the luxuries of civilization, a 
bath, a bed, and a shave. We found them all good at 
this hotel, and then the letters ! No less than ten, and 
a half dozen newspapers. I reveled in them all the 
evening, and rejoiced to hear of you all well. They 
took me back home for the night. Another glorious 
day to begin to see Jerusalem. We shall have plenty 
of time here, for there is no steamer for Alexandria 
till January 4. And now, again, good-by, and God 
bless you all always. 

Jerusalem, Saturday Evening, 
December 23, 1865. 

Dear Father, — This comes from the Holy City. 
I suppose you have heard by mother's letter of my 
arrival here, day before yesterday. Two days have 
been spent now in sight-seeing. Yesterday, the 
Mount of Olives, Gethsemane, the valley of Jehosh- 
aphat, and the Brook Kidron, the city walls in the 
afternoon, the weekly sight of the poor Jews wailing 
outside the old Temple wall. To-day, the Mosque 
of Omar, the site of the great Temple, the valley of 
Hinnom, the pool of Siloam, again the Mount of 
Olives, the Jews' synagogue, the tombs of Zechariah, 
the Virgin, St. James, and all the others, and the 
church of the Holy Sepulchre, which includes within 
itself the Tomb and Calvary. Are not these names 
enough? We lodge here on the Via Dolorosa, near 
what is said to be the top of Calvary. But, ah ! 
monkery has been so busy manufacturing all sorts 
of holy sites that one knows not what to believe. 
Calvary is at the top of a dirty paved street, in a 
chapel of a gaudy church ; Gethsemane is a flower- 



JERUSALEM. 69 

garden with a high wall, redeemed only by eight very 
old olive-trees ; only the great general aspect of the 
whole, Mount Zion, Mount Moriah, Mount Olivet, 
and the deep ravines, these are past all doubt and 
full of inspiration. They have been two rich days. 

Saturday, December 30, 1865. 

My energetic letter-writing has paused for a week. 
I take it up again to tell you of my tours around 
Jerusalem. Last Sunday morning we attended 
service in the English church, and after an early 
dinner took our horses and rode to Bethlehem. It 
was only about two hours when we came to the town, 
situated on an eastern ridge of a range of hills, 
surrounded by its terraced gardens. It is a good- 
looking town, better built than any other we have 
seen in Palestine. The great church of the Nativity 
is its most prominent object ; it is shared by the 
Greeks, Latins, and Armenians, and each church has 
a convent attached to it. We were hospitably 
received in the Greek convent, and furnished with 
a room. Before dark, we rode out of town to the 
field where they say the shepherds saw the star. It 
is a fenced piece of ground with a cave in it (all the 
Holy Places are caves here), in which, strangely 
enough, they put the shepherds. The story is absurd, 
but somewhere in those fields we rode through the 
shepherds must have been, and in the same fields 
the story of Ruth and Boaz must belong. As we 
passed, the shepherds were still " keeping watch over 
their flocks," or leading them home to fold. We re- 
turned to the convent and waited for the service, 
which began about ten o'clock and lasted until 
three (Christmas). It was the old story of a Romish 



70 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

service, with all its mummery, and tired us out. 
They wound up with a wax baby, carried in proces- 
sion, and at last laid in the traditional manger, in a 
grotto under the church. The most interesting part 
was the crowd of pilgrims, with their simple faith 
and eagerness to share in the ceremonial. We went 
to bed very tired. 

Christmas morning, we rode up to town and 
went to service. It rained all that day, and we 
stayed in the house. The next morning we were off 
for our trip to the Jordan. Passing out of St. Ste- 
phen's Gate, we rode past Gethsemane, and around 
the southern slope of the Mount of Olives, the same 
road by which Christ made his triumphal entry from 
Bethany. The point at which He must have first 
come in view of the city, with the multitude throw- 
ing the branches under His feet, is very clearly seen, 
and very interesting. Passing round the hill, in 
about an hour we came to a little village hid away 
in a fold of the valley, as quiet and out of the way a 
place as one can imagine. This is Bethany ; a poor 
little town now. They show still the tomb of Laza- 
rus, — a cave, deep and dark and tomb-like. All 
the afternoon we rode on over the hills. This is 
a dangerous region, and we had a guard with us, a 
sheik, and three soldiers from the government of 
Jerusalem. However, we saw no robbers ; plenty 
of Bedouins, but very harmless. Towards night we 
came out into the great plain of Jordan, wide, green, 
and beautiful. We crossed the " Brook Cherith " of 
Elijah and the ravens, and went to the site of old 
Jericho, where is the fountain which Elisha changed 
from bitter to sweet. Then across the plain to the 
site of the later Jericho, which Christ entered. This 



JERUSALEM. 71 

is tlie old Gilgal. Tliey showed us the house of 
Zaccheus. We camped here, and after dinner the 
Bedouin women came and danced their wild dances 
and sang their wild songs and got their backsheesh. 
Next morning, we rode down the plain to the river, 
the Jordan ! We came to it just " over against 
Jericho," where the Israelites may have crossed, and 
just where tradition says that John preached and 
Jesus was baptized. The stream was swift and tur- 
bid; about as wide as the Shawsheen where you 
cross it going from Mr. Tompkins's to grandmother's. 
We saw the place where the hosts of pilgrims came 
to bathe at the Passover. 

From the Jordan we rode an hour and a half 
to the Dead Sea, and stood on its desolate, dreary 
shore, and tasted its dreadful water. The view 
was wild and melancholy, and still appeared full of 
the story of the old catastrophe. In the after- 
noon, we rode across the hills toward the Greek con- 
vent of Mar Saba. The views were splendid. We 
were in the wilderness of Judea. On our left was 
the Desert of Engedi, where David fled from Saul. 
A terrible hail and sleet storm came up and wet 
us through, and we were glad enough, passing 
along a splendid ravine, through which the Kidron 
flows, to find a picturesque old Greek convent, where 
sixty monks live their miserable, useless life. They 
were useful for once, however, for they took us in 
and made us comfortable for the night. I wish you 
could have seen us among the brethren, disturbing 
their quiet life with the many wants of tired, wet, 
and hungry men. The convent was built about the 
grotto of an old hermit years ago, and is surrounded 
by the deserted caves where hundreds of hermits used 



72 FIEST JOURNEY ABROAD, 

to live. Thursday morning, we said good-by to the 
monks and left them working in their garden, and 
took up our way toward Hebron. We had to go 
first to Bethlehem again. We passed a very striking 
encampment of Bedouins, with their black goat's-hair 
tents in the valley, and riding through the fields of 
the shepherds and Ruth, came into the little toTVTi. 
The people, who are very handsome, gathered about 
us to sell relics. I saw some very beautiful faces in 
the church among the women, on the night of the 
service ; they wear a peculiar red robe, and in general 
seem decidedly superior to the ordinary inhabitants 
of the country. We went into the church again and 
saw it more thoroughly. The place of the !N^ativity 
is in a little gTotto like the one at Nazareth. The 
manger is in an altar opposite. The gTottoes of 
St. Jerome and his fellow-anchorites, SS. Eustasia 
and Paula, are close by. Each of the three convents 
has a passage-way down to the altar of the Nativity. 
We rode on from Bethlehem along an old aqueduct, 
which leads by a beautiful gTeen valley, in which 
Solomon had his gardens and country houses, to the 
" pools of Solomon," three immense reservoirs, built 
to supply Jerusalem with water, but now long out 
of repair and use. He says in Ecclesiastes that he 
made him " pools of water." From here to Hebron, 
the oldest city in Palestine, the home of Abraham 
and the kings, which lies in a broad valley five hours 
from the pools. What a ride we had to get there. 
It rained, and rained, and rained. The rocks were 
slippery, it grew dark, the horses were tired out, and 
glad enough we were to get to the town and find a 
little room in a Jew's house (there are no Christians, 
only Jews and IMoslems in the place), and try to get 
dry and get through the night. 



JERUSALEM. 73 

The next morning, the storm was just as bad, or 
worse, but we started. There is not much to see in 
Hebron except the place itself, and that we could 
not see. The cave of Machpelah is in a mosque, 
where they don't admit Christians, so we looked 
at the outside. Then we rode by a splendid great 
oak at Mamre, which they call the oak of Abraham. 
This is the valley of Eshcol. And then, in rain 
and cold and discomfort, we struggled back to Jeru- 
salem, lunched at the pools with some Nubian sol- 
diers, who are there as guard, passed by the tomb of 
Rachel, just outside Bethlehem, and reached our hotel 
at five o'clock, glad enough to be here. This is the 
sketch of our trip, which we enjoyed in spite of its 
discomforts. It is about our last. Next Tuesday, we 
shall leave for Jaffa, to catch the steamer of the 4th 
for Alexandria. 

And now, what about Jerusalem? I believe I 
know it thoroughly. I have seen all its sights, 
have walked about it, and marked the towers thereof, 
till I understand its shape and spirit pretty well. It 
is not large, but it is crowded full of interest. 
Everywhere you get striking views, — Olivet, with the 
little mosque on its top, the great mosque on Moriah, 
David's tomb on Mount Zion, the Holy Sepulchre, 
with its broken dome, on Calvary. You cannot get 
away from some of them. Do you know that they 
have the Holy Sepulchre and Calvary all in one 
church ? You go up a flight of a dozen stairs from 
one to the other. But I must not attempt to describe 
Jerusalem. I will tell you all about it when I get 
home. Our consul here and Bishop Gobat of the 
English church have been attentive. It is sad to see 
how Moslem power rules here. The very keys of the 
Holy Sepulchre are kept by the Mohammedans, 



74 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

I need n't say I was delighted to get letters here, 
and hear that you are all well. I have read them 
over and over, and now am looking for more at 
Alexandria, where we hoj^e to arrive on Satiu-day 
next. The least items from home, you know, are 
interesting to us away off here. Tell mother her 
letters are most welcome. To-morrow is Xew Year's 
Day. A happy New Year to all of you! Good-by, 
God bless you all. 

Jerusalem. Monday, January 1, 1866. 

I must wish you all a happy Xew Year. It is a 
good way off, but I am sure you all know that I am 
doing it this morning, and I can almost hear you 
wishing it back to me. May it be a happy year to all 
of us. Before it is over, God grant we may be 
together again safe. Two more days in Jerusalem ! 
Saturday, I went out to see the old cave tombs, which 
are all about the city, the tombs of the Judges and 
those of the Kings. Yesterday, I went to the 
English church in the morning, and heard Bishop 
Gobat. In the afternoon, a lovely bright sunny day, 
I walked out to Bethany and back ; over the summit 
of Mt. Olivet, the way that Da^dd went when he fled 
from Absalom, back around the southern ridge of the 
hill where Christ came in on his triumphal entry. It 
was a delightful walk. 

Appleton received a bimdle of Boston Advertisers 
yesterday afternoon, which were very refreshing. 
They told us all about the elections, etc. 

Tell mother I put in this letter for her the head of 
a reed which was '* shaken by the wind " on the brink 
of the Jordan, and two flowers which I picked in 
Gethsemane. 



JAFFA. 75 

Jaffa, Wednesday Evening-, January 3, 1866. 
So far westward. Yesterday morning we left 
Jerusalem, seeing our last where we saw our first of 
it, from Mt. Scopus. Then we rode to the hill of 
Nebi-Samwil, the ancient Mizpah, where Samuel is 
buried. There is a splendid view from the top ; an 
old minaret crowns it. Down thence through Gibeon 
and Beth-horon and the valley of Ajalon, where 
Joshua's gTeat battle came to pass, and the sun and 
moon stood still. The ride was over hill and valley, 
very interesting. Late in the afternoon, we came 
down into the great coast plain of Philistia, and 
passed through Lud, the Lydda of the Acts, an old 
town with the remains of a fine church. Another 
half hour brought us to Ramleh, where we camped 
last night. It is a place famous in Crusaders' history. 
From there, a three-hours' ride brought us here to-day, 
with no accidents, except my horse tumbling into 
a ditch and muddying me from top to toe. Jaffa is 
the old Joppa, and we went to see the house of Simon 
the tanner, "by the seaside," where Peter lodged. It 
is a pretty likely-looking sort of place for a tanner. 
Mr. Kayat, the British consul, came to see us this 
afternoon; we went to see his orange gardens, and ate 
lots of the ripe fruit off the trees. We are lodged in 
the Russian convent. Was n't it funny to find our 
chairs here in our room, rocking-chairs and all, marked 
" M. L. Gates, Q6 Commercial Street, Boston ?" So our 
Syria is over, and if the steamer is up to time 
to-morrow, we are off to Alexandria. 

Jaffa, Wednesday, January 10, 1866. 
Here we are still, after a week of dreary waiting 
and discontent. The day after we arrived, a storm 



76 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

came up and has lasted until to-day. witli strong west 
wind. Xot one of the tln-ee steamers that ought to 
have touched here has arrived, and we have no news 
of either of them. Even if they had come, we could 
not have o-ot aboard, for the harbor is rousfh and the 
sea rims verv hio'h. We have lost a week in waitings. 
We have had all sorts of plans : sometimes, to go by 
land uj) to Beyrout, and try to get aboard there ; 
sometimes, to take camels and go across the desert 
direct to Cairo, but the torrents of rain kave hindered 
our movino:. TTe coidd not ti*avel now without gret- 
ting swept away with the full streams, so we must 
wait and wait. To-day is bright and pleasant, but 
the high wind still blows on shore and no news of 
the steamer. 

Stzameb Egypto. between Jaffa and Alexandria. 
Sunday, January 14. 1S66. 

We are off at last. Yesterday morning, there 
came along an Austrian steamer botmd for Alex- 
andi'ia. and as the wind and sea had moderated, we 
went aboard her and shall be ia Alexancb^ia to-nio:ht. 
We have had a very pleasant and smooth passage so 
far, and are glad to be out of Jaffa, which has nothing 
to boast of but its oranges. They are sj^lendid. and 
did n't I eat them ! 

SxEAirER ^IcERis. January 23, 1866. 

Dear William. — This is one of the times for let- 
ter-writing. I am on a foiu' days' voyage from Alex- 
andria to Messina. The first two days the sea was 
terriblv rouo:h. and this French boat, beinor a screw 
steamer, rocked horridly, so that it was out of the 



EGYPT. 11 

question to think of writing, or anything else, except 
holding on and not getting washed overboard, or 
pitched downstairs. They were days when, in the 
elegant and expressive language of Artemus Ward, 
it was hard for the passengers " to keep inside their 
berths or outside their dinners." Still it was the first 
very bad sea I have had anywhere, and I must not 
complain. To-day is calm and still, and we are 
getting on fast towards Sicily. 

On arriving at Alexandria, after our long imprison- 
ment at Jaffa, I found a host of letters, and received 
some more the day I left. You may guess they were 
welcome. The latest was yours of Christmas Day, 
and none better deserves an answer. I will tell you 
in a few minutes about what I saw in Egypt. My 
stay in Egypt was short. Alexandria was the mean- 
est place I have seen yet. Enterprising, busy, but 
perfectly unattractive. Too Western to be good 
Eastern, and too Eastern to be good Western ; too old 
to be good new, and too new to be good old. A bad 
mixture. Cleopatra's Needle is an obelisk in a cow- 
yard. Pompey's Pillar is an old column on a hill 
overlooking lake Mareotis. It has nothing in the 
world to do with Pompey, and is principally interest- 
ing from some American sailors flying a kite over it 
once, as recorded in the pages of the American First 
Class Book. But if ^exandria is detestable, Cairo 
is delightful. I could write pages, yea, a book, about 
the dear old place, with its bazaars, mosques, gardens, 
palm forests, palaces, donkeys and donkey-boys, its 
great old river, and its Pyramids. But I won't. Let 
it be enough that one morning I straddled a diminu- 
tive long-eared creature, about as big as the family 
rocking-horse, with a brown, bare-legged boy running 



\ 



78 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

behind, poking the donkey and screaming at him all 
the way ; I rode through Cairo, was ferried over the 
dreamy old Nile, and then rode across its gorgeous 
gTeen valley, climbed to the top of the Pyramid of 
Cheops, and looked out on the Desert. The usual army 
of wild Arabs dragged me to the top. The ascent is 
not hard, but they insist on gi\ang you their hand 
and pulling you up from step to step. The easiest 
way is to let them do it. All the while they chant 
a wild stave in the Hiawatha measure, something like 

Good Howadji ! Great Howadji ! 

Strong Howadji ! Lots of money ! 

Give us Backsheesh ! Plenty Backsheesh ! 

When you get to the top, you do give them as much 
backsheesh as will stop their tongues and let you enjoy 
one of the strangest and most memorable views that 
the world has to show. I sha'n't attempt to describe 
it. One must get on the toj) of that Pyramid before 
he can know anything about it. When I got down, 
I went and stood in the shadow of the Spliinx, and 
looked up into her vast stone face. If the Pyramids 
are great in their way, she is a thousand times greater 
in hers, as the grandest and most expressive monu- 
ment of a religion in the world. But I am writing 
a letter about Egypt, and I did n't intend to. The 
mosques of Cairo are very attractive, vaster and 
more gorgeous than any elsewhere, and containing 
some of the most interesting specimens of old Arab 
architecture, in which are the germs of a good deal of 
modern European. Then we went out to visit the 
viceroy's gardens and palace, and saw something of 
Egyptian luxury. It was a place that Anthon}^ and 
Cleopatra might have reveled in. While we were in 
Cairo, the season of Ramazan, the Mohammedan Lent, 



MESSINA. 79 

began. They fast all the daytime, and carry on all 

night. Their worst privation is from tobacco. It is 

terrible to go through the bazaars and see the poor 

old fellows looking so melancholy and cross, holding 

their pipes all ready filled, awaiting sunset to light up. 

The nights of Eamazan are gorgeous with lights and 

feasting. But I positively won't say anything more 

about Egypt. 

Hotel Trinackia, Messina, 
Tuesday Evening, January 23. 

My letter was cut short this morning by finding 
how near we were to our port. I went up on deck, 
and there was the coast of Italy, the sole of the 
" boot " on one side, and Mt. Etna, with its gTcat 
white sides and little spire of smoke, upon the other. 
About one o'clock we arrived here. I had some 
hopes, in coming here, of meeting the boat for Greece, 
and making my visit there now. But she passed us 
going out, about three hours before we came into the 
harbor. There was no connection from Alexandria to 
Greece for ten days, so I did not wait there. I shall 
go to Naples to-morrow, and next week to Rome, where 
I shall stay till after Carnival, then make a trip to 
Greece and be back by Holy Week. I am alone again. 
Dr. Leeds stayed in Egypt, and Mr. Aj)pleton has 
gone on to Paris. He will probably join me to 
Greece. My whole scene has changed. Italy is all 
around me. This is a delightful old town, with a 
quaint old cathedral and square, and pictures of Ital- 
ian life at every step. I am depending, with all my 
heart, on Naples and Rome. 

Tell Mr. John that I expect him to appreciate my 
brotherly attention in going to the Egyptian post- 
office, in Cairo, and at an expense of much gesticu- 



80 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

lation buying a full set of tlie new Egyptian postage 
stamps, whicli I am told are rare in America. I 
think they deserve a letter at least. I was glad to hear 
how Christmas passed with you. Before tliis you have 
heard how I passed mine. I saw lots of " Little Wan- 
derers " in Syria and Egypt, and now Italy seems as 
full of them as either. 

On board Steamer II Courier di Sictlia, 
Wednesday p. M., January 24. 

I have been all the morning seeing Messina. It is 
a delightfully Italian to^vn, lying along the shore, 
backed by a wilderness of green hills. They have a 
lovely old cathedral, full of elaborate carvings and 
mosaics, and the views everywhere of the straits 
and the hazy Italian shore opposite are beautiful. 
The great show of the town I have missed. It is an 
autograph letter which the Virgin Mary sent them 
once, with a lock of her hair. She is their special 
patroness. The priest who had the key of the cathe- 
dral was out, so I could not see it. Now we are on 
our way to Naples, just passing between Scylla and 
Charybdis. We are going through the old peril safely, 
I think. This little steamer was built at Glasgow 
in Scotland. We are leaving Sicily and Messina be- 
hind us. Messina, you know, is the town of " Much 
Ado about Nothing." There Benedict and Beatrice 
courted, and walking out last evening I saw honest 
Dogberry " comprehend a vagrom man " in the 
streets. 

Hotel Vittoria, Naples, 
Sunday, January 28. 

Three days, now, in this most beautiful spot on 
earth. No one can wonder at people's enthusiasm about 



NAPLES. 81 

Naples. I liave seen some things in my travels wliicli 
were not up to the mark, but of the beauty of Naples 
and its bay, the half has not been told, simply because 
it can't be. As I look out of my window now, I can 
see the blue bay, with Capri lying off in front, the 
promontory of Baise, and Puteoli stretching its arm 
around it, the green hills covered with olive groves 
and vineyards shutting in the land side, and the bright 
gardens of the Villa Reale, with their fountains, stat- 
ues, and gay promenaders, lying in the foreground; 
the whole in a climate such as we have in our best 
June days, and an atmosphere such as we never have. 
I have seen something about Naples. One day to 
Puteoli, where is a very perfect old amphitheatre, 
and where Paul landed to go up to Kome ; to Baiae 
and Cumae, Virgil's Elysian Fields, Lake Avernus 
and Sibyl's Cave, up as far as Cape Misenum. An- 
other day down the coast to Salerno, thence to Paestum, 
where are the most perfectly preserved Greek temples 
in the world. That is one of the greatest things to 
see in Italy. The road there is very beautiful, a little 
given to banditti, so that we had to take a guard of 
soldiers. We had no adventure, and got home safe. 
The two greatest wonders of Naples I have yet to see, 
Pompeii and Vesuvius. The mountain, which is not 
vast or grand, but simply beautiful, overlooks you 
everywhere you go, but I have not yet seen even a 
whiff of smoke out of his great pipe. Etna is a much 
more splendid mountain, and so is Stromboli, which we 
passed the other day coming up from Messina. You 
see Italy is beginning with even more fascination than 
anything yet, and my next three months are going to 
be very full. I am afraid my letters will not be quite 
so long now. I shall have no more sea voyages to 



82 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

write in, and shall liave employments for my e.venings 
out of doors. I will try my best, and you must allow 
I have done splendidly for the last three months. 
For the present, this is all. I am very well, and in 
first-rate condition every way. Shall probably go up 
to Rome next Saturday. I hope to get some more let- 
ters there. Good-by ; give love to all, and don't for- 
get your affectionate brother, who expects to get home 
in September. Phillips. 

Rome, Sunday, February 4, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — In Rome at last, at the place of 
all others in Europe that I have most wished to reach. 
I got here last night about seven o'clock, and this 
morning before breakfast went down the Corso to the 
Capitol, and thi^ough the Forum to the Coliseum. It 
is exactly as I have always pictured it, only a great 
deal more interesting. This is really all I have seen 
of the city yet. I went to ser^dce at the American 
embassy this morning, and found the place crowded 
with Americans, lots of people that I knew. 

Since my letter went to William I have been having 
a great time in Naples, seeing everything in that most 
beautiful of cities. One long day I spent at Pompeii, 
which is most wonderful, with its old streets and 
houses, uncovered just as they were left the day that 
the great eru23tion came and buried them. Then I 
went up Vesuvius, and saw where the eruption came 
from, ventured down into the crater, wliich is very 
grand, and stood on the hot ground, where another 
eruption is cooking, to burst out by and by. Another 
day I went down to Sorrento along the shores of the 
bay, spent a night there, and then crossed over to 
Capri, the beautiful island where the old Roman em- 



ROME. 83 

perors had their palaces and lived their horrible lives. 
I spent a day at the great museum of Naples, where 
all the statues and other antiquities from Pompeii and 
Hercidaneum, and the other ruins in that neighbor- 
hood, have been collected into the most enormous 
repository in the world. It is very rich and very beau- 
tiful. On the whole, Naples has delighted me, and 
I put it along with Edinburgh, Constantinople, and 
Damascus as one of the four great cities of the world 
in beauty. There is a railway from there here, taking 
about seven hours. 

Thursday Evening', February 8. 

I have been very busy all the week, and now am so 
sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I will send 
this off to let you know that I am well and enjoying 
every moment. Rome is so much greater and fidler 
than I had ever dreamed of. I have seen a great deal, 
but when I think what there is right about me, it 
seems as if I had seen nothing ; I have wandered all 
through St. Peter's, spent a long day in the wilderness 
of the Vatican, another in the great museums of the 
Capitol, and followed the banks of the Tiber, skirted 
with ruins of the old temples, palaces, and theatres of 
this wonderful race, roamed through some of the pic- 
ture galleries of the great palaces, found my way into 
a few of the numberless gorgeous churches, and to-day 
have been from one to another of the studios of our 
own living artists. All this has swallowed up many 
hours. 

Then the Carnival is in full rage, and every after- 
noon it is hard to keep away from the Corso, where 
every old gray palace is hung with bright red, and the 
balconies are filled with gay people full of fun, pelting 
with flowers, sugar-pliuns, and confetti the queerest- 



84 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

looking crowd, in every sort of wild harlequin dis- 
guises, that is running riot in the street below them. 
Really, while I am in Rome you must not look for any 
more long letters of the Syria sort. I will tell you 
about it some day. The city is full, too, of Americans, 
and lots of people that I know are here. I have made 
some very pleasant acquaintances among the Ameri- 
cans who are living here, and who know Rome well. 
The state of the country is terrible, and the poor 
Pope is in a most miserable position. I saw his Holi- 
ness the other day, driving in splendid state, but had 
no good look at him through the carriage windows. 
The swarm of priests and monks of many sorts in the 
streets is horrible. I have n't heard from you since I 
left Alexandria. I hope to get letters to-day. 

Friday, February 9, 1866. 

No letters to-day. What has become of you all ? 
Well, this must go. It is a poor letter to send from 
the Eternal City, but it is so hopeless in a place like 
this to try to tell you what one sees. One does n't 
know where to begin. To-day, for instance, I spent 
the morning in two of the great picture galleries, in 
the Borghese and Corsini palaces, then two or three 
hours in the sculptors' studios, among others Rogers's, 
who has by far the best bust of Mr. Lincoln that has 
yet been made ; and the afternoon among the ruins, 
which are exhaustless. So make allowance for short- 
comings and forgive me. This will do at any rate to 
tell you that I am splendidly well and happy, and love 
you all as much as ever. I wish you could see, feel, 
and taste this glorious soft Italian weather. Good-by. 
God bless you all. Six months more and I shall be 
almost home. Your loving son, 

Phillips. 



ROME. 85 

Rome, February 19, 1866. 

To the Sunday-Schools of the Church of the Holy Trinity 
and Chapel, Philadelphia : 
My dear Children, — When I think how near 
Easter is coming, I think also how pleasant it would 
be if I could spend that day at home in Philadelphia ; 
and particiJarl}'-, I wish I could be with you in the 
Sunday-school and at your Easter service. As I have 
no chance of that, I want to write a few words which 
I hope Mr. Coffin will find time to read to you some 
time in the course of the day, as my Easter greeting. 
For of all my friends in America there are none by 
whom I should be more sorry to be forgotten, or whom 
1 should be more sorry to forget, than the circle 
who make up our schools and classes. I do not mind 
telling you (though of course I should not like to have 
you speak of it to any of the older people of the 
church) that I am much afraid the younger part of 
my congregation has more than its share of my 
thoughts and interest. I cannot tell you how many 
Sunday mornings since I left you I have seemed to 
stand in the midst of our crowded schoolroom again, 
and look about and know every face and every class 
just as I used to ; nor how many times I have heard 
one of our home hymns ringing very strangely and 
sweetly through the different music of some far-off 
country. I remember especially on Christmas Eve, 
when I was standing in the old church at Bethlehem, 
close to the s]3ot where Jesus was born, when the 
whole church was ringing hour after hour with the 
splendid hymns of praise to God, how again and 
again it seemed as if I could hear voices that I knew 
well, telling each other of the " Wonderful Night " 
of the Saviour's birth, as I had heard them a year 



86 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

before : and I assiu-e you I was glad to sliut my ears 
for a wliile and listen to the more familiar strains 
that came wandering to me halfway round the world. 
But I meant to write you an Easter letter, and to 
give you an Easter greeting. As I have gone to Pal- 
estine once m this letter ah'eady, let me take you 
there again. In the Holy City of Jerusalem, you 
know. Christians built ever so many years ago a 
noble church directly over the place where it is be- 
lieved Jesus was buried, and right under the dome of 
this gTand old church, they have built up a little tem- 
ple of marble which incloses what is believed to be 
the real tomb where the Saviour lay — and this, of 
course, is a very holy place ; and when I was in Jeru- 
salem I used to go and stand by the side of that cold 
stone and watch the endless stream of worshipers 
that came up there to pray. They were pilgTims from 
every quarter of the globe; in all kinds of dress, 
with all kinds of faces, and all shades of color. First 
an old man that seemed to have used almost the last 
strengi;h that was in him to crawl from his far-off 
house in frozen Russia to see the Holy Sepulchre 
before he died ; then a young girl with her face full 
of enthusiasm, who had apparently given all her youth- 
ful strength away and came pale and weary, but full 
of joy, to the place that she had longed for by day and 
dreamed about by night ; then a mother would come 
Tsith her child and press its little lips against the cold 
marble, while the baby would shrink back and look 
up in her face as if he wondered what it meant. It 
was a very touching sight to me. They crept on their 
knees through the little low doorway into the tomb, 
that is always lighted with countless lamps of gold and 
silver ; and as if there were no way strong enough for 



ROME. 87 

them to express the feeling that had brought them so 
far to see this holiest of all places, they cast them- 
selves upon the stone and covered it with kisses, and 
cried as if their hearts would break for joy. It was a 
strange and very touching sight. But when I recall 
it now in connection with Easter Day, the one thing I 
think of most is the emptiness of that tomb in Jerusa- 
lem, and the ways we have of doing honor to Jesus 
which are so much better than making pilgrimages to 
the place where he was once buried. You remember 
what the angel said to the disciples on the first Easter 
morning, when they made their pilgrimage to the 
Holy Sepulchre : " Why seek ye the living among 
the dead? He is not here. He is risen." It seems 
as if one heard those words all the time he is walkins: 
about in Jerusalem. Let us, my dear children, rejoice 
together on Easter Day in the greai? Easter truth that 
Jesus our Saviour is to be found and worshiped, 
not in any cold tomb, but in any heart, no matter 
how young and humble, that is warm with his love, 
and brio^ht with the constant cheerful effort to do 
whatever duty He desires. That is the happy temple 
in which He loves to live, and I hope every one of us, 
this happy Easter Day, will find this Saviour very 
near to us, risen from his tomb and come to live 
with us, and help us, and be our friend and brother, in 
every joy and sorrow of our lives. That is the Easter 
prayer which I pray with all my heart for each 
one of you. 

I must not write only to the members of our schools 
and classes at the church and at the chapel. I must 
not and do not forget the teachers, who are laboring 
on in their good work. My dear friends, let me bid 
you Godspeed out of a heart full of sympathy with 



88 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

you and ^Ath yout work. May yom- Easter be a day 
of renewed coui*age, and liopefulness, and love. May 
God help you in your happy work, now and always. 
It ^\t11 be a happy day for me when I stand once 
more among you to be your fellow-worker. 

I suppose we shall none of us meet this Easter 
without thinking of the last. TThat a sad day it was ! 
You remember we had to take all oui' flowers down 
and hang the church in black, and our celebration, 
with its cheerful carols, was given up, for it was just 
then that we heard the terrible news of our good 
President's murder. TVe shall never, any of us, 
foro-et that day. Every Easter will always bring; it 
back. And especially tliis year. I am sure, none 
of us will keep the holy day without thanking God 
that the cause which our President died for has been 
so victorious, that peace has come back to us. that the 
great rebellion has been defeated, and that men and 
women can no more be slaves in America forever. 
We must be very thankful for these things, and pi*ay 
God earnestly to keep our dear country always from 
these two great sins of rebellion against the govern- 
ment and oppression of any of its people. 

But my letter, which meant to be very short, has 
forgotten itself, and wandered along over all these 
pages. There is much more that I want to say, but I 
must wait till I get home, and can say it myself. 
That will be, I hope, very early in the fall. I shall 
spend my Easter here in Rome, after making a short 
journey fost to Greece. I wish I could paint for you 
in words the beauty of the springtime in this delightful 
climate, which is already blossominof into summer, 
while America is still shivering with the cold of its 
severe winter. 



ROME. 89 

And now, my clear friends, good-by, and may God our 
Father bless and keep us all. If He spares us to meet 
again, I think we shall all try to work harder than ever 
to serve and please Him. Let us pray for one another 
that we may be kept from every danger and every sin. 
I let my mind run along our schoolrooms, and as I 
see you there I ask a blessing for each of you. May 
our Lord Jesus Christ, who rose on Easter Day, rise 
anew on this Easter in all your hearts, and be a living 
Saviour, a friend, a brother, a helper, and a comforter 
to you all, all the days of your lives. May He live 
with us until, when we have done our work. He takes 
us to live with Him forever. Always, my dear chil- 
dren, 

Your affectionate friend and rector, 

Phillips Brooks. 

Rome, Tuesday, February 20, 1866. 

Dear Father, — I wonder what is the matter. 
Since I left Alexandria, a month ago yesterday, I have 
not had a single letter from America. The mails keep 
coming, and everybody else gets lots, but there is 
nothing for me. I have put off writing from day to 
day, because it is rather pleasanter to write when one 
has a letter to answer, but there seems to be no use in 
waiting any longer. I am afraid my letters must 
have been sent by mistake to Alexandria, and it will 
be some time yet before I get them. 

I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed these 
two weeks in Rome. Every moment of them has been 
busy, and I know the old city pretty well. I have ex- 
plored it from end to end, above ground and under 
ground, the churches, ruins, picture galleries, the Vati- 
can, the Campagna, everything. The first week of 



90 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

my stay here was the Carnival, and the town was 
crowded ^\ith strangers. Since Lent began they have 
largely gone off to Xaples, and left a little room, so 
that one can climb up to the Coliseum, or go thi^ough 
a picture gallery, without being in a jam of folks so 
gTeat as to take away half the pleasiu*e of the thing. 

I am going off this week for a while. I start on 
Friday for Xaples and Messina, whence I shall sail 
next Tuesday for Athens ; and after spending eight 
days there shall retiu^n to Eome, getting back here 
about the 13th of March. Then I shall have two or 
three weeks here before Easter, immediately after 
which I shall leave for a month in northern Italy, and 
go to Paris about the first of May. I am depending 
much on seeino- Greece, thousfh I am afraid I can visit 
little besides Athens, for the country seems to be in 
such a state now with the brigands that it is not safe to 
go far away from the town. I am to meet ]Mi'. Apj^le- 
ton in Xaples. and he will go with me. 

I have met a great many people here whom I know. 
Two or three families of parishioners from Philadel- 
phia, a great many Boston people, and many whom I 
have come across in traveling. .Almost everybody 
who is traveling in Eiu'oj)e comes to Rome in the 
spring. There are also a gTeat many very pleasant 
American families li^-ing here permanently. I have 
seen a great deal of the Storys, and like them exceed- 
ingly. Yesterday I spent with them, in an out of 
town excursion to one of the old villas, which was as 
beautiful as antiquity and sprmgtime coidd make it. 
We had a capital time. ]Miss Shaw, sister of Colonel 
Shaw of Port WagTier, is staying with the Storys, 
and is very charming. They have pleasant receptions, 
where one meets the nicest people in Rome, particu- 



ROME. 91 

lai'ly the artists. Story is at work on a colossal 
Everett for the city of Boston. Edward does n't look 
very imposing just now, for he has only got one 
trouser on, and is very much in the condition of 
"Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son Jolni." It is 
going to be a fine thing. Mr. Story has also a fine 
statue of Colonel Shaw, and Rogers has a capital bust 
of Lincohi. I dined the other day with Mr. Hooker. 
Charles Adams and his wife have just arrived, and 
other people keep turning up. Next Friday, the 
22d, there is to be a meeting of the Americans here, 
with a breakfast. I believe I am committed for 
a little speech. Won't it be funny to make a Hail 
Columbia address in Rome ? There are lots of cop- 
perheads here, and there will be much pleasure in 
saying a few words to them. The Rev. Charles 
T. Brooks is here, and is to read a poem. 

Tuesday Evening-, February 20. 

At last I have heard a little from you to-day. I 
have yours and mother's of January 2, and William's 
of January 8. You may be sure they are very 
welcome. They have been to Alexandria and back. 
I am glad to hear you are all well, and I thank you 
for your New Year's wishes. How I wish you could 
see and feel the spring here ! It is delicious, and 
every day now adds to its beauty. What a winter 
you have had at home ! I feel as if I had skipped win- 
ter altogether. I have not set foot in snow once ; 
but I must stop. I want to put a choice collection of 
stamps for Mr. John into my letter. I am very well, 
and shall be glad when I see you all again. Good-by, 
love to all. 

Phillips. 



92 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Messina, Monday, February 26, 1866. 

Now, my dear James,^ we will liave that little talk 
wliicli we liave been meaning to have so long. It is a 
whole month, I believe, since I received your letter. 
Why have n't I answered it? Simply because, my 
dear boy, I have been in Rome, and who can write 
letters there ? I have had to be content with know- 
ing that I was thinking about you, and that you 
knew I was thinking about you, and promising my- 
self to write as soon as I got to some less absorbing 
place. So here I am, waiting for the steamer that is 
coming to take me to Athens. I have leaned out of 
my window in this Hotel Trinacria, and looked away 
up the straits towards Scylla and Charybdis, and there 
is no sign that she is coming yet ; so I am sure of time 
for a good long talk with you. It was good to read 
your letter, and to hear for the first time your talks 
as a theological student. It was so far an accom- 
plislmient of the purposes and hopes of these last two 
years ; it is an assurance of so much done, and so is 
a pleasant starting-point for the next stage. It is n't 
easy to run, for Hebrew Dictionary and Jahns and 
Homes are not light loads to carry; but the very 
getting at it is a sort of inspiration, and I am sure 
the same Help that has brought you up to it will 
carry you bravely through. God bless you in it. 

That is all I am going to say about your studies. I 
say it with all my heart, you know. I am not going 
to write you " a page about homiletics " or anything 
of the sort. I am too desirous to have my letters 
read for that. If you want suggestions in detail, 
have n't you got Fred, and can't he give them to you 
a great deal better than I can, way off here? I am 

^ Rev. James P. Franks. 



MESSINA, 93 

sure you are not going to disappoint any of us, but 
more than fulfill all that we hope of you. 

How have you and that same Fred got along this 
winter? From what I hear of the bitter cold, you 
must have been very affectionate to keep each other 
warm. How different our winters have been. Mine 
has been fidl of fruit trees in full fruit, and hot, 
sunny days ; while yours has had skates, snow-storms, 
and all that. Yours is a great deal the best for a 
steady thing, but mine has been a very enjoyable 
luxury for this once. My last three weeks have been 
completely given up to Rome. Did I ever tell you 
that it was the one place in Europe that I was most 
anxious to see perfectly and know through and 
tlirough? I believe I do know it well, and I shall 
have three weeks more to revel in it, when I get back 
from Greece. Do you remember the photograph of 
the old city that hung over my bookcase in Bpruce 
Street ? How many times I have studied and tried to 
understand it. Now ask me any house in it and see 
if I do not tell you. From the first walk down to 
the Coliseimi before breakfast, the morning after I 
arrived, down to my last view of the crippled old 
aqueduct striding across the Campagna as I rode 
out to Naples, it was an unceasing and infinite delight. 
There are a great many pleasant people there, too, 
some of whom I knew at home, and many whom I 
learned to know well there. We had a very patriotic 
time on the 2 2d of February, and stirred up the dusty 
old air with national melodies of which the Caesars 
never heard, and talked about loyalty and liberty, 
which they would not have appreciated if they had. 
Then there was Naples, just as bright, sunny, and gay 
as Rome is grim. The one is always solemn and 



94 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

stately, even when it is dressed in carnival scarlet. 
The other is always on the broad grin, and dancing 
like a faun. They are both perfect in their ways. 
And now I am going to see what Athens is like, and 
then come Florence, Venice, Genoa, Paris, and the 
biggest and best day of all, when I see Boston again, 
which is worth the whole lot of them together, and is 
the best place on the world's face to live in. So say 
we all of ns, don't we ? 

Everything is going well, and it is pure good nature 
in the people to be kind enough to miss me when they 
fare so well in my absence. All this is a great relief 
to my mind, and lets me go on without an anxiety, 
adding pleasui'e to pleasure while my year lasts. 
Some time in October will see me back, if I am 
spared. To think that before I come Fred will have 
been ordained and will be at his work ! Where will 
it be ? I should so like to have had a glimpse of you 
together in your household life this winter. How 
much you must have enjoyed it, and how much you 
both owe to me for making you know one another ! 

Give my kindest regards to your mother and sister, 
and to my other friends in Philadelphia. As to old 
Fred, tell him I love him still, and ask him to write 
oftener, and I will pay him when he goes to Europe. 

And now, my dear boy, good-by and God bless you. 
I think of you lots ; you may make ever so many 
friends without having one that will like you better, 
or wish you every blessing more fervently than your 
old friend, P. B. 



STEAMER GODAVERY. 95 

Steamek Godavery, between Messina and Athens, 
Tuesday, February 27, 1866. 

Dear William, — Here I am on the Mediter- 
ranean again. Coming down from Rome to Athens, 
I crossed by steamer to Messina, and last night our 
old friend the Godavery, in which three months ago 
we sailed from Smyrna to Beyrout, took us up and is 
carrying us fast towards Athens. Appleton came 
from Paris, and joined me at Naples. We shall be 
there probably early on Thursday morning. It seems 
like getting back to last winter's experiences. The 
boat is full of Greeks, French, Germans, and what 
not. The familiar cabins recall the days when 
we were getting ready to plunge into Syria, wondering 
what kind of a time we should have there. The Med- 
iterranean is as beautiful as ever. To-day is a soft, 
clear, warm, blue day, when one just likes to sit on 
deck and think what a lovely thing the sea is. Indeed, 
I have found this treacherous sea all winter one of the 
gentlest, most gracious, and best behaved of creatures. 

This sea life of a day or two is quite a rest after 
Rome with its intense and constant interest. I cannot 
tell you how I enjoyed that city. I had hoped much 
from it, but my enjoyment far surpassed all my antici- 
pations. It has more than any other city of those 
things which, once seen, become pictures to you for- 
ever. St. Peter's so vast and so beautiful, the Vatican 
with its labyrinth of art, the Coliseum and the Forum 
with the beauty of their ruin, — one doesn't know 
where to begin to think about what there is in Rome. 
I paid your old High School eloquence the tribute of 
a thought, as I looked at the ruins of Horatius Codes' 
bridge, and at the place in the Forum where 

" Virginius caught the whittle up and hid it in his gown." 



96 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Some day, if you care about it, I will get out the map 
of Rome, and we will go over it and spell out the his- 
tories that are written there, one over the other. The 
mere art of Rome is infinite. Think of a city that 
has the Dying Gladiator, and the Apollo Belvedere, 
and what is called the greatest picture of the world, 
Raphael's Transfiguration. Do you remember seeing 
it for years in the copy in St. Paul's chancel? I 
thought it a wonderful picture when I saw the original 
in the Vatican ; I cannot think it so great a picture 
as the Dresden Madonna, but the comparison of great 
pictures is very unsatisfactorj^ and odious. A mere 
list of the other pictures of Rome that fill you with 
their power or beauty would crowd my paper. Of the 
people in Rome I saw many, some very pleasant. At 
the Storys' house, I met several of the best artists, 
and other interesting folks. I saw Miss Hosmer, Miss 
Stebbins, and Miss Cushman, three ladies of genius, 
you know, and very pleasant personally. Our 22d 
of February went off well. President King, of New 
York, presided, and his son, our minister in Rome, 
General King, Mr. Story, General Bartlett, and I 
spoke, and Rev. C. T. Brooks, of Newport, read a 
poem. We were very patriotic, and an Italian band 
played our national airs well. 

I am very much disappointed about my letters ; there 
is a mistake about them somewhere. I received none 
before leaving Rome, except those that had been all 
the way round by Alexandria. The latest was yours 
of January 8. Now I shall get no more till I reach 
Rome again, which will not be till about the 14th of 
March. Then I shall expect a big bundle. I don't 
know what the hitch is, but take it for granted that it 
will regulate itself by that time. 



ATHENS. 97 

Hotel d'Angleterre, Athens, 
Thursday Evening. 

I am here on tlie 'OSos AtoXov, as the street signs call 
it, which means ^olus Street. I go out on my balcony 
and look one way, and there is the Temple of the Winds 
and the Acropolis beyond, with the Parthenon glow- 
ing in the sunset. I look the other way, and see the 
Academy and the old grove where Plato taught his 
pupils. In front is the Pn^seus and the Saronic Gulf, 
with Salamis in the distance. Two hours ago I was 
on Mars Hill, where Paul made his address ; the old 
stones of the Judgment Seat are still standing at 
the head of the stairs that lead up from the Agora. 
Then I went over to the Pnyx and stood where 
Demosthenes and Pericles have so often spoken to the 
Athenians of old. Before me was the Temple of 
Theseus, the most perfect of all relics of antiquity. 

Friday Evening-, March 2. 

Here my letter came to gTief yesterday, owing to 
the dinner bell. I spent the evening very pleasantly 
at Dr. Hill's. You know he is our missionary here, 
and the man who has done more than anybody else 
for the elevation of Greece, by means of education. 

He told me a great deal about Greece that was in- 
teresting. To-day I have been on a very delightful 
ride from Athens through the Pass of Daphne, along 
the Thriasian Plain to Eleusis, the place where the 
old mysteries, the most sacred religious rites of 
ancient times, were celebrated. It is a very beauti- 
ful spot, in full view of the Bay of Salamis, where 
the great battle of the Greeks and Persians was 
fought, and of the height where Xerxes sat and over- 
looked it. Coming back, I went to the Acropolis 
again, wandering around to see its beauty from 



98 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

every point of ^aew. The wliole sweep of the land- 
scape is glorious : Hyniettus, Pentelicus, Colonus sur- 
rounding the beautiful plain ; the Ilissus and Cephi- 
sus, the two classic rivers of Athens, now mere dry 
torrent beds, running through it, and the Acropolis, 
with its immortal temples standing up, the central 
gem of the whole. 

Many things are odd in traveling here. First, we 
are twelve days behind time. You know the East 
has never adopted the change of calendar, so that 
lea\dng Messina on the 27th we arrived here on the 
17th. To-day is the 19th of February on all their 
newspapers, so for the present, I am twelve days 
younger than you think. Then it is curious to hear 
everybody, the cabmen, shopkeepers, beggars, talking 
familiarly a language that we have called dead, and 
struggled so hard to learn years ago. The modern 
Greek is very like the old, and eliminating differences 
of pronunciation, one gets to understand it a little and 
say a word or two so as to be intelligible. The modern 
city is all very new, and far better, neater, and cleaner 
than any other Eastern city. On the whole, these have 
been two great days. Yesterday, my first in Athens, 
was one of the most memorable of all my journey. 

Saturday Morning, Mareli 3. 

I find there is a mail leaving to-day by the Austrian 
steamer, so I will close this up hurriedly and send it. 
We are going on Monday for a little trip into the 
Peloponnesus, to Argos, Mycaene, and Corinth. In 
about ten days I shall be back in Rome, and stay there 
till after Easter. To-morrow I am going to preach in 
St. Paul's Church, Athens, for Dr. Hill. Lots of love 
to all ; I am very well. Affectionately, 

Phill. 



ROME. 99 

Rome, Saturday, March 24, 1866. 

Dear Father, — Since I came back to Rome, I 
have been so continually busy tliat it has been not an 
easy thing to get time to write. I beg your pardon 
very hmnbly. Now I will tell you a little of the 
much that I have done and seen since I wrote an 
enormous letter to Arthur from Athens, which was 
mailed at Naples. One of the best things was to get 
an immense pile of letters when I arrived here. All 
the acciunulation of two months reached me at once, 
and I have had a great treat in reading them. I 
heard of your reception of all my letters from 
Damascus to Naples, and you and mother, William, 
Fred, Arthur, and John, with others outside the 
family circle, contributed to my delight. 

We had a rather rough passage from Athens to 
Messina, and then from Messina over to Naples. I am 
a very good sailor by this time, but still I am not 
sorry to think that I have no more to do with the sea, 
except in crossing the Channel, until I sail for home. 
I did not stay in Naples, but came right on here. 

Since my return, the climate of Rome has been 
bad, sort of New England April weather, some rain 
almost every day. But the country is looking beauti- 
fid, and when we have fine weather it is splendid to 
go about; for rainy days, we have the Vatican, the 
Capitol, and a dozen other galleries. One day this 
week I have spent at Tivoli, another in the Alban 
Hills, Frascati, Tusculum, and Albano. The country 
and people are very interesting indeed. 

Rome has got to be just like home to me now, I 
know it through and through, and after so much 
wandering, my stay here has been a very pleasant 
change. I have made a good many acquaintances 



100 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

among our resident artists and the travelers. The 
Storys, Crawfords, Tritons, Miss Cushman, Miss Steb- 
bins. and Miss Foley, all of them I have seen a good 
deal of, and like. To-day, I am to dine with Mr. 
Mozier. one of oiu' best sculptors here. I have been 
quite interested in visiting the studio of a colored art- 
ist, ]Miss Lewis, of Boston, who has recently come 
here, and promises veiy well indeed in sculpture. 

Of travelers there are many ; Eome is crowded, so 
that it is impossible to get a room. Many Philadel- 
phians are here. Also the Morrills. Mr. Crardn^r 
Brewer, and ^li\ TVales, of Boston : this is all very nice. 

Xext week is Holy TTeek, with all its gTcat chiu'ch 
pageants, closing with the sj^lendid fii-eworks on 
Easter-Monday night. On Tuesday, I shall leave, 
and go by way of Foligno and Perugia to Florence ; 
then to Bologna. Parma. Modena. Ferrara, Padua, 
and Venice. Then to Verona. ]\lilan, the Italian 
lakes, Turin, Genoa, Nice, Marseilles. Lyons, and 
Paris. Does n't that sound good ? 1 am depending 
much on Florence and Venice, and indeed all the 
route is very rich. 

I am sick at heart about Johnson's performance ; it 
was mv first o-reetino; when I o-ot back to Eome. and 
was very depressing. It seems as if we had a narrow, 
vulgar-minded man upon our hands, and must take 
all the delay and suffering that he chooses to put upon 
the country. Of course, we shall come out all right 
at last, but it is very disheartening to come up short 
against such an obstacle. 

I hear talk about quarantine in America this 
summer, ^ould n't it be nice to spend tbirty days at 
Deer Island on my way home? They seem to be 
exj)ecting the cholera everywhere, both here and at 
home. 



ROME. 101 

Tell Arthur and John I was set up to get their 
letters. I had ali^eady written to Arthur. My next 
will be to ^Ir. John. Forgive this poor letter. . . . 

Phillips. 

Rome, March 30, 1866. 

Dear Jack, — I ^Till tell you where I am and what 
I am doing. I am up in the fifth story of the Wash- 
inglon Hotel, that 's the where ; and I am seeing the 
sights of Holy ^Veek at Rome, that 's the what. They 
began last Simday TN'ith the great blessing of the 
palms at St. Peter's. It was a gorgeous service, with 
very splendid music. You have to dress for it, as if 
you were going to a party. Nobody without a dress 
coat is admitted into any place where you can see 
anything. Then yesterday (Thursday) was one of 
their gTeat days. In the morning, his Holiness 
washed the feet of twelve priests, who stood for the 
Apostles, in St. Peter's, and waited on them at table. 
It was a very odd and ugly sight. A tremendous 
crowd was there, and it was as perfectly devoid of 
anything religious or impressive as it was possible to 
conceive. Then the Pope came out on the gTeat bal- 
cony in front of the church and pronounced his bene- 
diction. That was one of the grandest sights I ever 
saw, — the whole vast piazza crowded, and the clear 
voice of the old man rinoino- out his blessino- so that 
every one coidd hear. In the afternoon, I heard the 
famous ^liserere in the Sistine Chapel, and whatever 
else mav be himibuo; about this strano-e week here, that 
was certainly the most wonderf id music I ever listened 
to. Xow. evervbodv is lookins^ forward to Easter 
Sunday, when the whole will crown itself "^"ith a 
splendid service in the morning, and the gTeat illumi- 



102 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

nation of St. Peter's dome at night. There is much 
that is very interesting about it, but still it is good 
every day to get away for a while, and wander off 
into the ruins ; to go down the Corso, and climb up 
among the nests of crooked streets at its foot, till you 
come out on the Capitol ; then go down through the 
Forum, and under the Arch of Titus to the Coliseum ; 
by the Arch of Constantine to the Baths of CaracaUa, 
the finest old bit in Rome, and out the Appian Way 
till you get beyond the gates on the Campagna, among 
the aqueducts and tombs. Last night, I was going 
with some folks to see the Coliseum by moonlight, but 
it was cloudy and we gave it up ; about eleven o'clock 
I happened to look out, and found it was clearing 
and the clouds breaking away, so I started off alone, 
and went down and had it all to myself. Not even 
a guide was there. I climbed over a gate to get in, 
and wandered all over it, with the most splendid moon 
pouring down and lighting up the city on one side, 
and the Campagna and the Alban Hills upon the 
other. It was a great treat to sit there and watch it. 
I wish you had n't been asleep, and could have gone 
with me. 

I am just getting ready to leave Rome, and am 
dreadfully sorry to go away. I have seen everything, 
but want to keep seeing it over again. When you 
paint your future, don't forget to put your brightest 
colors on the days that you are to spend in Rome. 
Perhaps I may be ready to come again by the time 
you set out. 

We find time, even here in Rome, to talk about 
home, and especially about the President and his 
veto. I am glad to say people generally agree with 
you and me, and agree with us vigorously, too. The 



FLORENCE. 103 

patriotism and home interest of tlie best sort of 
Americans seem to be stronger here than ever. It 
certainly is a great shame that such a man should 
block our wheels and keep peace waiting, under the 
pretense of hastening it ; but he can only delay things, 
not spoil them. To-day is Good Friday, just a year 
ecclesiastically from the death of Lincoln, and the 
real beginning of things going wrong. By the way, 
why is there no commission yet for a great statue 
of Lincoln for Boston ? Mr. Story showed me his 
Everett yesterday. It is very fine, a colossal figure 
in plain citizen's dress, in the act of speaking, the 
right arm raised in Mr. Everett's favorite gesture, the 
whole very bold and simple, and successful, I think. 

I send some more rare post-office stamps, all I can 
get now. Are there any you want especially ? Let 
me know, and I will try. Good-by, and be a good 
boy, and write to me. 

Your loving brother, Phillips. 

Florence, Hotel de l' Arno, 
April 8, 1866. 

Dear William, — Here I am in my third day 
at Florence. Before I begin to rave about the city, I 
will tell you how I came here. When I wrote to 
John, I was in the midst of Holy Week at Rome. 
Many of its services, such as the washing of feet 
and tending on table by the Pope, were disagree- 
able and fatiguing. But three things stand out in 
my recollection as very fine and impressive. One 
was the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel on Thursday 
evening, by far the most sublime and affecting sacred 
music I ever heard. The dim chapel, dusky old fres- 
coes, and splendid presence joined with the wonderful 



104 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

^ 

music to make it very impressive. Then the great Papal 
Benediction on Easter Day at noon, from the balcony 
of St. Peter's, the vast piazza crowded full, the peas- 
ants from all the surrounding country in their strange 
dresses, the gorgeous background of soldiery, the per- 
fect stillness, and the voice of the old man ringing out 
his blessing over them all. It was one of the sights 
of a lifetime. Third, the illumination of St. Peter's 
at night was magnificent. Every line of the majestic 
dome bursting out in fire, the whole standing as if it 
were the fiery dome that Michael Angelo conceived 
and tried to build. 

Besides these, the moment in the Easter service was 
very solemn when the Host was elevated, the silver 
trumpets sounded in the dome, and the whole vast 
audience fell on their knees. Romanism certainly 
succeeds in being very striking in some of its demon- 
strations. Unfortunately, Easter Monday was a windy 
day, and the great fireworks had to be put off, so that 
I did not see them. 

It was hard to leave dear old Rome ; I had learned 
to love it, and hated to go away. My six weeks there 
will always be a treasure to me. I know it through 
and through, but it makes me sorry to think that I 
shall never see it again. I left on Tuesday morning 
by rail for Terni, where I stopped over night and went 
to see the famous falls. They are made falls, but very 
beautiful, with more variety of surface and effect, I 
think, than any cataract I know. Wednesday by rail 
to Eoligno, and thence by Vittoria to Perugia, stopping 
at Assizi, w^here is one of the most interesting old 
churches of all Italy, built in honor of St. Francis, 
who was hermit here. It is rich in the pictures of 
Cimabue and Giotto, the first of modern painters, — 
founders of modern painting. 



FLORENCE. 10.5 

Perugia is a dear old town, full of the pictures of 
Perugino, Raphael's master. Thursday by Yittoria 
and rail to Florence, passing lake Trasimeno, where 
Hannibal gave the Romans such a whipping. Of 
Florence I cannot speak yet, though I have had two 
great days here. Think of one room in the Uffizi 
Palace containing the Yenus de Medici (I don't like 
her, she is too little, physically, morally, and mentally), 
three Raphaels, two Titians, one Michael Angelo, and 
lots besides, and that will give you, when you multiply 
it by fifty or a hundred, some idea of what is waiting 
for you to see here at Florence. Go to the Athenaeum 
and look at Michael Angelo's Night and Morning. 
They are here in solemn marble, over the Medicis' 
tomb in St. Lorenzo church. Yesterday I went up to 
Fiesole, and looked down on this perfect valley with 
its beautiful town, and this morning I climbed to the 
top of Giotto's Campanile in the great cathedral 
square, and saw the city from there. To-morrow I am 
going down to Pisa to see if that tower really leans, as 
Woodbridge's Geography said, and after spending the 
week here, I shall be off for Bologna and Yenice. I 
wonder sometimes that one does not tire of the very 
excess of interest and beauty, but the constant change 
is a constant impulse, and I am fresher for enjoying 
things to-day than I was when I first set foot at 
Queenstown. 

On arriving here, I found yours of March 20 ; it 
seems as if I were almost at home to get such recent 
dates. Now I shall hear regularly every week. Four 
weeks from to-day I shall be in Paris. By the way, 
where are yom* commissions for the centre of fashions ? 
What number gloves do you wear ? I am glad you 
think I am economical. I perpetrated one or two 



106 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

extravagances at Rome, a bronze, etc. I saw Miss 
Foley in Rome and liked Iter exceedingly ; she gave 
me some pretty photographs of some of her things, 
which you will find with those which I sent in John's 
letter. I have met friends here who were large pur- 
chasers, with whose boxes my modest bundles could 
be easily and cheaply packed. 

Now, a commission for you. I want a copy of Mr. 
Smnner's speech on the Representation amendment in 
pamphlet. I must have it. If you cannot get it any 
other way, do write to him direct, and ask for it. I 
am anxious to have it for a particular reason. The 
Freedmen's Union have asked me to go to London to 
the anniversary meetings in May to enlighten John 
Bull's Emancipation League. . . . Good-by, I am 
perfectly well, and, as you see, perfectly happy. 
Love to all. Affectionately, Phillips. 



Bologna, Italy, Hotel San Marco, 
Sunday, April 15, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — I am spending a rainy Sunday 
at this old town of sausages. I believe there are 
other things than sausages here, but I don't know 
anything about them yet, for I only got here late last 
night, and since I woke this morning it has rained so 
horribly that I have n't been outside the walls of the 
hotel. Since I wrote to William last week, I have 
seen all of Florence, and been to Pisa and Sienna. I 
am happy to report that the tower at Pisa does really 
lean, just the way the picture-books have it, and you 
have the proper pleasant feeling of msecurity as you 
wind around it up to the top. It has stood crooked 
for a good many years, and my being safe here to-day 



BOLOGNA. 107 

proves that it did not tumble wlien I was on it last 
Monday. 

The Cathedral and Baptistery at Pisa are both 
very rich in old art, and the Campo Santo, where 
the monks, priests, and nobles lie buried in the 
holy earth that was brought all the way from Jeru- 
salem for them to sleep in, with its frescoed colon- 
nades around it, is one of the nicest, quietest burying 
grounds in all the world. Sienna is a charming 
sleepy old Italian town, with a wonderful cathedral, 
and a gallery of immensely old pictures. Among 
others, an Ecce Homo by an old man called So- 
doma, which I wish you could see. It is almost the 
most powerful and touching face of Christ which I 
have seen in any picture. As to Florence itself, it 
is the brightest, sunniest, bluest, most delightfully 
pretty place in Italy. The days there were the 
perfection of Italian weather, when everything, from 
the hovels to the stars, seems to have ten times as 
much distinctness of color and outline as it ever gets 
at home. The pictures in Florence are beyond all 
description or calculation. You get bewildered with 
the wealth with which Raphaels, and Titians, and so 
on, are scattered through the endless galleries. There 
are hundreds that woidd be the making, any one 
of them, of a gallery at home, and which once seen 
here seem to be before your eyes all the time, and not 
to be forgotten forever afterwards. The mornings I 
generally spent in the galleries, and the afternoons 
walked or rode off into the country somewhere aroimd 
the town, to some point where its beauty stood out in a 
splendid view. I shall remember my week in Florence 
as one of the pleasantest of all my journey. The ride 
from there here, across the Apennines, was very fine. 



108 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Everybody in Europe now is wondering, you know, 
whether there is going to be war between Austria and 
Prussia. If there is, as seems likely, it is impossible 
to say to what extent it will involve all the rest of 
Europe. Everything seems ready for a general upset, 
for there is not one nation among them that is not in 
some way restless and uneasy with the present state 
of things, and prepared to welcome a general row in 
hopes of something better. The Old World is very 
rotten, and if President Johnson would only behave 
himself and stop vetoing good bills, and let the 
United States go on and do her work, she might lead 
the miiverse. What a great misfortune that man is 
to the country ! What have we done to deserve him ? 
Did we not struggle through the war, and put down 
the Rebellion? and now why should the conquered 
South be allowed to come up and rule us still in this 
other form ? It is very hard to understand. The last 
veto, I take it, is decisive as to his spirit and 
intentions. 

I had no letters from you this last week. They 
have gone to Venice. By the time you get this, about 
the first of May, I shall be in Paris, and stay there 
some three weeks. I hope to meet Strong there, and 
shall be very glad indeed to see one so fresh from 
home, who has seen you all so lately. My time is 
drawing to its close, and, much as I have enjoyed 
everything, I shall be quite ready to come home. I 
expect to enjoy Switzerland immensely. Mr. Tilton, 
the artist, of whom I saw a good deal in Rome, has 
promised to meet me there, and we shall probably 
travel some together. The Storys may be there, too. 
So far, my whole trip has been a success. I could 
not ask for anything in it to be changed. But here is 



A VIGNON. 109 

my paper all gone, only room left to say good-by and 

lots of love to everybody, and to be, in small letters, 

Your affectionate and dutiful son, Phillips. 



Hotel de l'Sukope, Avignon, Fra.nce, 
April 30, 1866. 

Dear Father, — I believe it is two weeks since I 
have written to any of you at home, though I wrote 
to Fred from Venice. My excuse must be that these 
have been two of the busiest weeks of my journey- 
ing. Before I plunge into Paris, however, I will let 
you hear of me from this queer old French town. I 
went from Venice to Verona, where I spent a night ; 
a very interesting town, with one of the riiost remark- 
able Roman amphitheatres, in better preservation than 
any other. It is one of Shakespeare's great to^vns, 
too, " Romeo and Juliet," you know, and " The Two 
Gentlemen." The old house of the Capidets, where 
the pretty Juliet lived, is still there. From Verona 
to Brescia, a delightful old place, Roman remains, 
mediaeval architecture, and pictures ; everywhere the 
quaintness, simplicity, and unlike-anything-else-ness 
of modern Italy. Few places have given me more 
pleasure than Brescia. From there to Milan, as 
bright, and gay, and pretty a modern town as there is 
in the world. In the midst of it stands the wonderful 
cathedral, that everybody knows all his life in pictures, 
a bit of most delicate and beautiful lace work, done 
in white marble, a forest of statues and elaborate 
carvings, not done yet, and not likely to be finished 
for many years to come. There are superb pictures 
in Milan, too, and the almost-gone remains of one 
of the greatest pictures of the world, Leonardo da 
Vinci's fresco of the Last Supper. Then to Turin 



110 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

by a splendid road, close under the shadow of the 
Alps, with Monte Rosa and a hundred other white 
peaks looking at you all the way. Turin is a hand- 
some town, but has not much to be seen except some 
good pictures. Then to Genoa, the city of palaces, 
splendid structures, with magnificent architecture and 
paintings. The whole situation of the town, too, is 
very striking. There I took a steamer and sailed to 
Marseilles. Good-by to Italy, and into the domains 
of Napoleon the Little ; red-legged soldiers and big- 
gendarmes everywhere. Marseilles is a big city, but 
not very interesting, and I was soon off to Nimes, a 
French town as old as the Roman empire, and older. 
It has fine Roman remains, another amphitheatre, 
temples, etc. From there to Avignon, the place 
where the Popes ran in the fourteenth century, when 
they had to clear out of Rome, and the dearest, French- 
iest of old towns. The old Papal castle, a grim, 
thick- walled great affair, is now a barrack for soldiers. 
From here I go to-morrow to Lyons, and the next 
day to Paris, where you may think of me when you 
get this. There is this bit of my biography which 
you must fill out with ever so much enjoyment every 
day, and be thankful for, as I am. 

I received letters from you at Venice to March 23. 
I am depending much on getting some more at Paris. 
You are all as good as can be about writing. I will 
try to pay you up when any of you come to Europe. 
Meanwhile, forgive my shortcomings. I see papers 
now more frequently ; I am so glad that Congress has 
passed the Civil Rights Bill. Let them go on and do 
their duty, firmly, but without passion or exaspera- 
tion, and all will be well in spite of Johnson. 

All Europe is wondering whether there is going to be 



PARIS. Ill 

war. Italy was in great excitement, and is longing 
for Yenetia, wliich she ought to have. My opinion is 
not worth anything, for Bismarck has n't sent me 
word. But I believe the storm will blow over. 

I expect to meet Strong in Paris in the course of 
a week. How long our plans will run together, I 
cannot tell till we meet. Only four or five months 
more, and I am with you. It will be a glad day. A 
million thanks for all your goodness in writing. You 
do not know how glad I am to get letters. No end 
of love to you all. Phillips. 

Paris, May 9, 1866. 

Dear William, — I have been in Paris now a 
week, and a busy week in Paris will let you know a 
good deal about the city. I have loafed in it from 
one end to the other, and have seen the bigger part of 
what is worth seeing in the town itself. Under these 
circumstances, I feel justified in deliberately asserting, 
and you may repeat it if you wish, on my authority, 
that Paris is considerable of a place. It is a great 
change from most of my other traveling, after Syrian 
tents, and Greek inns, and Italians albergos, and 
steamboat berths, to settle quietly down in this luxu- 
rious hotel, dine at nice restaurants, and walk all day 
on these bitumen sidewalks, which are the luxury of 
pedestrianism. I am glad I came here last. It is a 
better place to end than to begin with. 

Paris, you know, is almost a new city. There is very 
little really ancient or mediaeval left; even the me- 
morials of its revolutionary days are hard to find. 
Everything is splendid with the lavish outlays of 
Napoleon III. I saw him and Mrs. Eugenie driving 
in the Champs Elysees the other day, and the little 



112 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

prince, wlio is said to be really a very remarkable boy, 
I saw driving into the Tuileries on Sunday. Paris is 
full of all sorts of people. Every day somebody turns 
up tbat I have known or beard of. I like it very well 
for a little while. 

I don't know how long I shall stay here. I have 
some little thought of going over to London on Monday 
to see the very English sight of the Derby Day. I 
have also urgent letters from the Freedmen's friends 
there, who are going to have a public meeting some 
time this month. If I go, I shall stay in England 
about six weeks, and get a week or two more here be- 
fore I go into Switzerland. 

Father's and mother's letters by the Asia, of April 
25, turned up to-day. That seems like being very 
near home. Tell them not to worry about the cholera. 
I shall keep as clear as possible of any places where it 
may show itself. I am delighted to hear that you are 
all well at home. Nothing but the war is talked of 
now. Things certainly look very belligerent. I did 
Venice just in time. Nobody is allowed to go there 
now. 

By the way, our friend Mr. Ward is in London, and 
one of the active Freedmen's men. . . . 

What an exceedingly disagreeable creatm'e our chief 
magistrate is ! I always take up a new paper now, 
sure that there will be another of those abominable 
vulgar speeches, and they are so weak and bad. If 
they had any strength in them, we could stand their 
vulgarity. Well, he can last only three years longer, 
and meanwhile everybody must work against him, as 
as they did against our other enemies. 

This is not much of a letter to write from Paris, 
but perhaps next week I will give you a stunner about 



LONDON. lis 

the Derby Day. Paris you must come and see for 
yourself. It 's such an odd, splendid jumble that it 
can't be written about satisfactorily. However, I am 
well and happy, and you must take that for the burden 
of this letter. Affectionately, 

Phill. 

London, Albemarle Hotel, 
May 18, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — I write in great haste this 
morning, because I do not want this week's mail to go 
without some indication of me. I am in London again 
and very well, that is about all that I have time to say. 
I left Paris behind me on Tuesday morning, and 
crossed the Channel by way of Boulogne and Folke- 
stone. With my usual luck, I had a bright, smooth 
day, and none of those disagreeable scenes which are 
often witnessed on board the Channel boats. 

I found London very full indeed, and only just suc- 
ceeded in getting a room. Wednesday I went to the 
Derby Day. It is one of the great characteristic Eng- 
lish sights ; all the city of London shuts up shop, and 
goes out twenty miles into the country to Epsom, to 
see which of two horses will run the fastest. The ex- 
cited look of the city, the stream of people of all ranks 
and sorts going out, the hosts who cover the grounds, 
the excitement of the race itself, and then the return 
to town at night, let you see one sort of English life as 
you cannot well see it anywhere else. The Prince of 
Wales was out there, and so was I. 

This is the big thing that I have done in London 
this week. Besides this, I have been seeing the great 
city over again, and picking up new impressions of it. 
When I was here before, it was deserted ; now it is 



114 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

crowded, and every excitement and fashion is at its 
height. You cannot think how strange it seems to get 
back into English ways, and in sound of our own lan- 
guage. Why, the very boys in the streets speak Eng- 
lish ! It seems like getting very near home again, and 
if it were not that I am to put off into foreign parts 
again by and by, I should feel as if my travelings were 
almost over. I hope to stay in England now till the 
end of next month. The country is not looking its 
best yet, though it is very beautiful. It seems as if 
you could not cut out a square mile anywhere from 
this England without getting a gem of a garden or a 
park. 

About the Freedmen's business, of which I have 
feared that I should have a good deal when I reached 
here, I think I shall escape it almost altogether. The 
great financial crisis has interfered with their plans, 
and no meetings will be held. I am going to a private 
meeting of a Mr. Kinnaird, M. P., this evening. . . . 

I called at the Adamses yesterday and saw Mr. 
Adams ; Mrs. Adams was out. I shall see more of 
them, no doubt, by and by. 

Strong met me in Paris and came on to London, 
and is now with me. I was delighted to see him and 
to hear about you all. 

Four months more and I am with you. Until that 
happy day, I am always affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Albemarle Hotel, London, May 26. 

Dear Mother, — I must not let to-day's steamer 
go without a line to say that I am well. I am still in 
London, though I expect to leave for the country 
some time next week. I have promised to speak at a 



LONDON. 115 

meeting at Birmingliam, June 12, that will be my 
only public performance in England. Yours and 
father's and Arthur's reached me last Monday, and 
were most welcome. Tell Mr. Arthur to do it again, 
if he can. 

London is full to the brim, and the weather is 
glorious. Every day has been very busy, seeing the 
endless sights. One day I went down to Canterbury, 
and spent the whole day at the cathedral and other 
old buildings there. It is a glorious place ; next 
week I hope to get to Cambridge, and as soon as pos- 
sible to Oxford. 

Your cousins the Adamses are well and very hospi- 
table, and inquire all about you. To-day the Scotia is 
in, and I hope she has some letters for me. She 
brings news of another veto of our precious President. 
English people think he is a great man. 

Strong is with me, and will be, probably, most of 
the summer. It makes it very pleasant. 

It looks now a little more as if they were going to 
get over the crisis in Europe without much fighting, 
but a little match may set the whole pile of combustibles 
off at any moment. This all makes it more fortunate 
that I came just when I did, and got through. No 
cholera anywhere, and don't worry about Switzerland. 
Lots of love to all. Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Univeesity Arms, Cambridge, 
May 29, 1866. 

Dear Fred,^ — I am in our Alma Mater's Mater. 
There is something charmingly homelike and familiar 
in old Cambridge. Outwardly unattractive by situa- 
tion, but very lovely with old Gothic courts and build- 

1 His brother, Rev. Frederick Brooks. 



116 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

ings, and all the beauty of noble old trees, perfect 
la^Tis, and blossomy hawthorns. The pretty Cam 
covered ^^ith college boats, the streets full of college 
faces and manners that might have been transplanted 
from the dear old banks of the Charles. The students 
seem to me very like indeed to Harvard boys, — the 
same average of age, the same general bearing, the 
same sort of talk. If anything especially gives them 
an advantage over us, it seems to be in the University 
system, the grouping of colleges so as to create a 
friendly corporate as well as personal rivahy, and the 
presence among them of older and mature scholars, 
residing on fellowships, etc., who raise the scholarly 
standards of the place higher than they could be set 
by mere undergraduate attainment. 

Both of these advantages, I think, are capable of 
being engrafted on oiu" system, and if they ever are, 
I see no reason why, in time, oiu' greater freedom from 
old prescriptions and restraints should not make our 
University a better place than this. The beauty of 
the college grounds, their homey seclusion, and perfect 
vistas are past describing. Oxford, of course, sur- 
passes Cambridge in all this, but Cambridge is a con- 
tinual delight. 

I only arrived to-day, but hope to stay a day or two, 
and see much more of the University life. From here 
I am going on a little trip to Peterborough, Ely, Nor- 
wich, and some other towns in this part of England. 
It is the season of seasons for its beauty. The 
Phillipses (this for father) came, I believe, from Rayn- 
ham in Norfolk, or near it. You remember the ori- 
ginal George, who came over and preached under a 
ti^ee in ^"atertown, and died of an unfortunate colic. 
Don't you ? Perhaps I have got them a little mixed 



CAMBRIDGE. Ill 

up, but all those facts were among the household 
words of our childhood. . . . 

As to my time in London, it was very full, but of a 
lot of things that you can get from the guide-books 
about as well as from me. I like London immensely. 
Last night I spent at the House of Commons. It was 
one of the great nights of the Reform Bill. By the 
kindness of Mr. Forster, I got admission to the Speak- 
er's gallery. The best men on both sides spoke : Glad- 
stone, calm, cool, clear, and courteous ; Disraeli, jerky, 
spiteful, personal, very telling ; Bright, honest, solid, 
indigixant with the small trickery and meanness of 
the opposition ; Mill, who holds people by sheer power 
of thought, as I have hardly ever seen any man do ; 
Whiteside, Grey, and others. The government was 
defeated on a side issue by the manoeuvring of the 
opposition, and the weakness of some of their own 
men. As to the look of the House, it certainly sur- 
prises one, who has heard their endless abuse of our 
legislative assemblies, which of course are bad enough. 
There was no such brutal outbreak as sometimes dis- 
graces our noble representatives, but for constant and 
bitter personality, in place of argument, for boisterous 
and unmannerly carrying-on generally, Washing1;on 
cannot beat them. In the middle of the evening, I 
dined with Mr. Forster and Mr. Bright, and had our 
great English friend pretty much to myself for two 
hours. He is a great talker, especially when he gets 
on to America, and he knows what he is talking about. 
Both he and Forster are friends worth having. Bright 
personally wins you in a minute by the frankness and 
cordialness and manliness of his greeting. Hughes, 
I saw, but not for any talk. The Reform Bill, little 
as it attempts, seems bound to fail. 



118 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

One word about Venice. If I did not expatiate, it 
was not because I did not enjoy it immensely. It is 
all that your fancy ever painted. Some day I will tell 
you about it. 

Many tbanks for your pbotograpb. It is capital, 
the very boy I used to see, lazily stretching his length 
in my chair in Spruce Street. 

Strong wants me to remember him very kindly to 
you. We are having a great time. The new rector 
of the Trinity parish in Boston is to join us for Switzer- 
land this summer. I wish you were to be the fourth. 

I am to speak at a breakfast and public meeting in 
Birmingham for the freedmen. Probably I shall not 
have time to write to Boston this week, so either send 
them this letter, or let them know that I am well. 

Be sure I shall think of you ever so much on your 
ordination day. God bless you. Phill. 

Albemarle Hotel, London, 
June 8, 1866. 

Dear William, — There will be another very 
short and unsatisfactory letter, I am afraid, to-night. 
The fact is, I can tell you about London by and by a 
great deal better than I can write it, so we will put it 
off until I get home, which, by the way, will be on the 
25th of September. I am to sail in the good steamer 
Ville de Paris, from Brest for New York, on the 15th 
of September, and shall be with you in ten days from 
that time. Does n't that sound near ? I prefer the 
Prench steamers to the English, and this particular one 
is unsurpassed by any boat on the Atlantic. Look out 
for her. 

To-day I have been to one of the great London sights 
of the year, the Charity Scholars' Festival, under the 



LONDON. 119 

dome of St. Paul's, four thousand little wanderers 
gathered together and singing in chorus. I never 
heard anything so telling, the great building rang with 
their voices. A bishop preached the sermon. After 
the performance I had the pleasure of lunching with 
Dean Milman, a charming old gentleman. Do you 
not remember his " Belshazzar," that Dim mock used to 
spout ? This evening I have spent with Browning, at 
the Storys' rooms (they have just come to London). 
He (Browning) was one of the men I wanted most to 
see here, a pleasant gentleman, full of talk about 
London and London people, with not a bit of the poet 
about him externally. 

Last Monday I went to Eton, to their great annual 
festival. Do you remember Eton Montem in the 
" Parents' Assistant " ? It was a fine day, and the coun- 
try was looking very beautiful. And I saw the great- 
est of the great English schools at its best. 

I wrote last week to Fred from Cambridge. I con- 
tinued my trip to Peterborough, Ely, and Norwich, 
and enjoyed immensely the great cathedrals of all the 
towns and the perfect English country. Strong has 
left me for a week or two to go to northern England, 
to see some places which I visited last fall. I am go- 
ing in a day or two, and shall be at Birmingham for a 
Freedmen's meeting, on the 12th ; at Oxford for the 
great Commemoration on the 13th, and then keep 
west. Meet Strong again at Chester, take a rmi 
through Wales, and the southern part of England, and 
get back to London about the first of Jidy, and then 
be off to Switzerland with your rector. 

An "Advertiser" to-night with Seward's speech. 
So good-by ; engage Robin for September 26. I am 
very well. Lots of love to all. Good-night. 

Phill. 



120 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

Warwick Arms, Warwick, June 14. 

Dear Father, — If a letter is going to you at 
home tliis week, it must be written to-night, and yet 
I confess I don't feel much like writing it. I have 
just reached here, am very tired, and the waiter is 
thinking of bringing me some dinner. Until it 
comes, I will try to talk to you, and you must not 
be surprised if you find me stupid. When I woke 
up this morning, I found myself in Stratford-on-Avon, 
Avhere I faintly remembered arriving late last night ; 
I arose as soon as I realized where I was, and took a 
walk before breakfast across the nicest and quaintest 
of English fields, to see the old farmhouse where 
Shakespeare made love, where Anne Hathaway used 
to live. The old cottage stands without an alteration, 
and is a charming little place. Then I came back to 
breakfast, and after that was over, went off to see the 
rest, — the birthplace, schoolhouse, burial-place, and 
all that belongs to the poet's life here, which we 
know very well by pictures that we have seen all our 
lives. Nothing in England, I think, has a stronger 
charm than this queer old to^\Ti. About noon, I took 
the train for Warwick, but, finding I was too late to 
see the castle to-day, I looked at the church with its 
monuments, the finest, best preserved in all England, 
and then drove across the loveliest of country, stop- 
ping at Guy's Cliff, where the earliest of the 
Warwicks, the hero of the fairy stories, used to put 
up (and he had a splendid place of it), to Kenil- 
worth, where I spent the whole afternoon among the 
ruins, and such an afternoon as you will never know 
anything about till you come over and do just the 
same thing. By the way, are you not making up 
your mind to come over to the great Paris fair of 



WARWICK. 121 

next year? It is time for you and mother to be 
thinking about it. Then I came down to Leam- 
ington, and spent an hour or two in the park of an 
English watering-place, and finally took the train 
back to Warwick, where I am w^aiting to see the 
noblest castle in England to-morrow morning. That 
is what I have done to-day. Yesterday I spent at 
Oxford ; it was Commemoration, which is their Com- 
mencement, a strange sight, — perfect wild license of 
the students, and the freest liberty to chaff, and hoot, 
and cheer as they please. It was a picture that is not 
to be seen anywhere else. The day before that, I was 
in Birmingham, telling Britons that they had been 
slaves to prejudice and seK-interest about America. 
The day before that, I was at Blenheim, the great 
palace of Marlborough. Do you remember Mr. 
Everett's splendid description of it in his Washington 
address ? The two days before that, I was in Oxford 
(Saturday and Sunday) enjoying the most perfect 
college landscapes, and some of the kindest hospitality 
in the world. That takes me back about to my last 
letter, and accounts pretty fully for my week. 

I did not get yours of last week ; they are waiting 
for me at Chester, where I shall call for them on 
Monday, on my way into Wales. I hope you are 
all well. The Fenians seem to be restless again ; I 
hope we shall put them down with their nonsense. 
And why do you not either try Jeff Davis, or let him 
go ? It would be a great relief to foreign travelers. 
Before you get this, the great war will probably have 
begun over here, and promises to be terrible. Three 
months from to-morrow I sail for you all. Good-by. 
God bless you always. Affectionately, 

Phillips. 



122 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

The Goat Hotel, Beddgelert, Wales, 
June 20, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — I am thinking that to-day is 
Fred's ordination day, and that you and father are 
in Philadelphia. Am I right ? How I wish I could 
be with you. I wonder where the ordination is ? I 
hope in my old church. It would always be a very 
pleasant thing to think of his having been ordained 
there ; wherever it is, I wish him with all my heart 
every blessing and success in his ministry. Of course, 
you will write me about it at once. 

I am in Wales. Get your map and find this little 
valley where we have hauled up in the rain. It lies 
at the foot of Snowdon, shut in by grand, bleak 
Welsh hills, with a little brawling picturesque Welsh 
stream tumbling among them. It is the place, you 
know, of the old murder of the faithful hound by his 
master, Llewellyn. Gelert's grave is in the garden 
of the hotel. My views of Wales are much like 
Jonah's, very wet ; it has rained, off and on, pretty 
much all day, while we (Strong and I) have been 
driving first by coach to Llanberis from Caernarvon, 
and then from Llanberis here by post. Caernarvon 
is on the coast, with a noble ivy-groT\Ti castle of early 
times, where the first Prince of Wales was born. 
The people talk an unintelligible gibberish without 
vowels, and the women wear shabby hats, and all 
looks quaint, quiet, and thrifty. The road thence 
to Llanberis is veiy beautiful, and Llanberis itself 
nobly situated at the entrance of a pass, and inter- 
esting with its pretty waterfalls, and a most pictur- 
esque tower of the sixth century. It has vast quarries 
of slate. The schoolboys and the house roofs bid fair 
to be kept supplied for years to come. From Llan- 



WALES. 123 

beris to Beddgelert tlie scenery is glorious. The 
wildest pass, witli tremendous cliffs, countless water- 
falls, ivied cottages, and quaint, odd-looking people 
everywliere. Wales delights one with its grandness 
and majesty, as unlike sunny England as can be. 

I think I wrote you last week from Warwick; 
thence I traveled to Rugby, and saw the old school, 
and all that reminds one of Dr. Arnold, its gTeat 
master. The boys were at a cricket match in the 
close, and all looked just as it ought. Then to 
Coventry, where are some of the greatest churches 
and quaintest houses in England, and " Peeping 
Tom," still looking out of a hole of a corner house, 
in perpetual effigy. Then to Chatsworth, the noblest 
private residence in England, the seat of the Duke of 
Devonshire, and near it Haddon Hall, a perfectly 
kept specimen of the old baronial hall, the best in the 
kingdom ; then to Litchfield, where I spent Sunday. 
A beautifid cathedral, a lovely country, and much of 
interest in connection with Dr. Johnson's birth in the 
town, and its previous active part in the Civil Wars. 
Monday to Chester, where I was rejoined by Strong, 
and met Potter (your rector), who joined us the next 
day to Conway, where is a great old castle, and then 
to Bangor and the wonderful tubular bridge over the 
Menai Straits ; then rail to Caernarvon, which brings 
my story complete. Potter left us to-day to push 
direct to London, where he will join us in a couple of 
weeks to start for the Continent. He is very well, 
and seems full of hope about Trinity. I think it very 
likely that we may return together. 

So you see I jog on. Every day is full of new pleasure, 
and every day bringing me nearer and nearer home. 
I have begim to count the weeks ; only fourteen more, 



124 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

and I am with you. Won't it be nice ? This terrible 
war, which has begun now, will perhaps interfere 
with some of my summer plans. But that will be 
the least of its evils, and I will not complain. I have 
been very fortunate, and have seen, it may be, more 
than I can digest. 

I fomid letters from you at Chester, but now shall 
get no more till I reach London, ten days hence, 
which is hard. 

I hear from Philadelphia that all goes well, but I 
want to be there more than I am wanted. I had a 
letter from Dr. Yinton a week or two ago. How I 
wish I could get into the back parlor to-night, and I 
would tell you a great deal more about this splendid 
Wales. Good-by, and love to all. I am very well, 
and always your loving son, Phillips. 

Albemarle Hotel, London, 

June 29, 1866. 

Dear William, — Last week's letter was sent from 
the heart of Wales, the foot of Snowdon. This is 
from the metropolis again, so I spin along. During 
the week I have seen and done a good deal. We 
climbed to the " Tip Top House " of Snowdon, and so 
began in a mild way our summer's mountaining. The 
climb does not amount to much. The view is one of 
the noblest I know, with infinite variety of hill, valley, 
and lake, and the sea in the distance. Then we took 
a long ride through most perfect scenery from 
Beddgelert to Port Madoc, down the coast to Bar- 
mouth, and thence to Dolgelly. This last stage, 
from Barmouth to Dolgelly, is the finest bit in Wales, 
and can hardly be surpassed anywhere. You must 
take it when you come abroad. 



LONDON. 125 

From Dolgelly we came across the country to Shrews- 
bury, then clown to Hereford, where there is a fine old 
cathedral, on to Ross, and thence by a most beautiful 
ride down the valley of the Wye to Monmouth, where 
we spent Sunday, a pretty and deadly quiet little 
village. Keeping still down the Wye to Chepstowe, we 
passed Tintern Abbey, the most beautiful monastic 
ruin in England. You cannot conceive how lovely it 
is, with its exquisite arches, perfect windows, and 
immense masses of rich ivy, Chepstowe to Gloucester, 
Worcester, Bristol, Wells, all interesting towns, with 
historical associations, fine old buildings, and delightful 
scenery. Then to Salisbury, and there I saw what is 
to me the most impressive thing by far in all England, 
Stonehenge, the old Briton temple out on Salisbury 
plain. A drive of eight miles from the town, over the 
green, flat plain, got us there just before dusk, and we 
saw the gigantic ruin looking its lordliest. There 
was something very grand and absolutely refreshing 
in those enormous rude, gray stones, the symbols 
of old strength, and will, and worship. I would rather 
miss seeing anything else in England than Stone- 
henge. From Salisbury to Southampton, and thence 
to Winchester, which is fidl of interest, and then 
back to smoky, dingy, grand old London. The 
whole trip has been delightful, weather fine, except 
one or two days, and the scenery looking its best. 
Now I have done with England, and shall start 
Monday morning for Paris again, and by next week's 
end be in Switzerland. 

I found letters here from you, for which no end of 
thanks. You don't know how much I enjoy them. 
Next Monday is your birthday. All hail to you, 
O thirty-two! 



126 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

I met your friend, Mrs. Walter Baker, in Wales. 
Tell father and mother I want to know all about the 
ordination. Good-by, and in three months more I am 
with you. Love to all. 

Your affectionate brother, Phill. 

Stkasbueg, July 7, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — I have an hour or two on my 
hands, and will begin my next week's letter. I am on 
the wing again, you see, and set for Switzerland. 
Yesterday I was at Rheims, one of the most interesting 
towns of France, where all the old kings used to be 
crowned, and where a good many of them are buried. 
Its cathedral is a wonderful thing of the richest and 
noblest Grothic. There are old Roman remains in the 
town, too. These Eomans are CA^erywhere. Then I 
came on here. I wish you could see Strasburg ; you 
could hardly find a better specimen of an old town, 
half French, haK German, than this is. It is strange 
to hear them talking German once more. It seems 
like last autumn over again. This afternoon I am 
going to Baden-Baden, the great watering and gaming 
place. There I shall spend Sunday. Thanks to the 
submission of Austria, it seems now as if the whole 
Continent would be open enough to travel. Is n't the 
news good ? All France is waving with flags for the 
glory that has come to her in the business. Italy will 
be the best monument that Louis Napoleon will leave 
behind him, and it will cover many of his misdeeds. 
I should like to be in Venetia now, and see their re- 
joicings. 

Basle, Tuesday, July 10. 

I had a day or two in Baden-Baden, and then 
came on as far as here, where my tour of Switzerland 



BASLE, 127 

really begins. I enjoyed Baden very much indeed. 
Its situation is most beautifid, and everything just 
now is looking its best. The great gambling-place is 
not quite as full as usual this year. The war has kept 
some away, but there is plenty of gayety there, and the 
tables are going from morning until night. Siuiday 
morning, just after breakfast, I saw them at it, and I 
did not sit up late enough to see the end. The walks 
and drives through the country about Baden are 
charming. No wonder it is a place of such attraction. 
I came from there here. This is a quiet little town, 
with the usual old cathedral and a picture gallery, 
and the Rhine running through it. There is nothing 
particidarly interesting about it. I am waiting only 
till this afternoon for Strong, whom I left in Paris, 
and who will probably overtake me here. . . . 

It is getting quite warm, and no doubt we shall 
suffer enough from the heat in some parts of Switzer- 
land ; but there are always the mountains to retreat 
to, and with a glacier close at hand one ought to be 
able to get along. 

I hope you are counting the time as closely as I am 
to my getting home. Only twelve weeks more, and 
there I am. How you will miss the chance of writing 
me a letter every week, and what a saving there will 
be in postage ! I am hoping to hear, when I get to 
Geneva, of Fred's ordination, and perhaps of his 
settlement somewhere. I hope he will not be in a 
hurry to decide where to go. There is so much to do 
everywhere that he can have his choice, and it will be 
a great deal better if he waits till fall. 

I am glad you have had a journey. I hope you 
went to West Point and Niagara. I depend on hear- 
ing all about it. Next year you and father must 



128 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

come over to the Great Exposition. Now good-by 
for another week. Love to all. 

Most affectionately, Phillips. 

Chamounix, Tuesday Evening-, July 17, 1866, 

Dear William, — I write to you to-night from 
the foot of Mont Blanc. I do not in the least 
expect the letter to be worthy of the place, but here I 
am in the Hotel Royal. Early this morning, George 
Strong and I left Geneva (about which I will not tell 
you anything, except that the lake is one of the love- 
liest things on the earth), in the back boot of a big 
lumbering diligence, with five horses, and set our faces 
towards the Alps. For five broiling hours the country 
was tame and dull, and nothing seemed to foretell 
Switzerland, except the increasing number of horrid- 
looking people with goitres on their necks, who came 
with idiotic grins to beg by the coach side. About 
noon, the hills began to gather round us, an occa- 
sional snow patch was seen up among the clouds, now 
and then a waterfall came hurling itself down, and 
saying something in the Alpine tongue, which we 
had n't yet learned to understand. At one o'clock (I 
want to be exact about such an important moment 
in my life), we drove into the little village of St. 
Martin, and, turning suddenly to cross the gray, small 
river Arve, which had been brawling at our side all 
the way, the driver pulled up his five horses, and there 
was Mont Blanc, as vast, and grand, and white as 
one has dreamed of it, twelve miles off, they said, 
though it might as well have been twelve hundred, 
it seemed so unapproachable and far away, although 
we saw its whole outline, and the ridges in its snow, 
and the great black needles standing up out of the 



CHAMOUNIX. 129 

white distinctly. Well, we had a pretty good lunch 
at the town on the other side of the bridge, called 
Sallanches, and then, leaving our diligence behind, took 
small carriages and started for Chamounix. It was 
awfully hot. Our brains sizzled and steamed. I have 
been as hot only once or twice ; never hotter. And 
the snow peaks were looking down, and making cool 
fun of us all the time. By and by, we came to a 
steep hill, and had to get out and climb three miles. 
When we reached the top, Mont Blanc was nearer 
and plainer, and we could see the great glaciers run- 
ning down the sides, and almost catch the sparkle of 
the intense white snow on top. Then the heat broke 
up in rain, and it poured down, first in great big Al- 
pine drops, and then in sheets, for the next two or 
three miles. When this was over, a great rainbow 
came, tied itself like a sash on the white shoulder 
of the ridge, and fell down across its white robe to 
its feet. 

We entered the valley of Chamounix, passed along 
by the foot of the Glacier des Boissons, saw the 
Mer de Glace in the distance, crossed a lot of bois- 
terous little streams, that came down just fresh from 
the great calm snow, rattled over a bridge across 
the Arve again, and were in the village ; secured 
rooms in a sort of supplement to the hotel, which 
is called the Crystal Palace, and found ourselves 
just in time for the six o'clock table d'hote. 

Chamounix as a village is principally three great 
hotels, with no end of little ones. All the other houses 
are connected in some way with Alpine tourists. 
It is safe to ask at any house for an alpenstock. 
^The general appearance of the town reminds me 
of Gorham, only there is n't a railway, and there 



130 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

is Mont Blanc. It is raining guns to-night, but my 
pair of big shoes, with nails in the soles, are out 
already for to-morrow. Meanwhile, a flash of light- 
ning every now and then cuts across a gap, through 
which you can look at the snow, that has laughed at 
some thousands and thousands of rain-storms. 

There, young man, sometimes you complain that I 
don't tell you what I am doing. Look at that ! I 
flatter myself nobody ever made more out of a day's 
ride than that ; certainly you will know at least how 
I got from Geneva to Chamounix. 

At Geneva, I found letters, all whose burden was 
the great Philadelphia visit. One from you, one 
from father, one from Mr. Coffin, and a little slip 
from Fred. I am rejoiced that all went ofP so well, 
and now I depend upon hearing about the new 
Reverend's future plans. Four months from to-day I 
shall be on the ocean. The Ville de Paris made a 
passage of nine days lately, so I think you and Robin 
may look for me on the 26th. Now good-by. Glory, 
glory, gloriation ! ten more weeks before vacation. 
. . . Phill. 

GiESSBACH, Switzerland, August 5, 1866. 

Dear Mothee, — To-day, I am up here in the 
woods, with the famous Falls of Giessbach tumbling 
and roaring in front of my windows, spending Sun- 
day in what, if it were not for the great hotel, would 
be the most retired nook of all creation. 

At Interlaken, the other day, I received three weeks' 
accumulation of letters ; a good feast after a long 
starvation. I must defer all accounts of my own 
minor travels to congratulate you on the great 
achievement of your Niagara. I am very thankful 



GIESSBACH. 131 

that you have been there. It is certainly the greatest 
wonder of Nature, which remark has been made 
about it before, perhaps, but I want to assure youi- 
complacency by letting you be confident that the 
Old World has nothmg to show that will compare 
with it. Mont Blanc is pretty grand, and there is no 
reason why you should not see that, too, some day, 
but for the present you may rest well satisfied with 
Niagara. 

It seems lucky, with such a houseful as you have 
had, that one of the boys was safely out of the way 
in Europe. . . . This last week, I have been seeing 
the wonders and the beauties of the Bernese Oberland, 
as it is called, that part of Switzerland which lies 
about the lake of Thun. Then from Macugnaga, 
where I wrote last Sunday, I came down the valley 
of Anzasca to Domo d' Ossola, then over the great 
Simplon Road to Brieg, over the Gemmi Pass to 
Thun, down the lake of Lucerne, over the mountains, 
close to the splendid Jungfrau to Meyringen, and 
from there to this mountain side on the lake of 
Brienz. It has all been splendid. The beauty of 
Switzerland is, that it has no dull places, and one is 
never tired, only sometimes bewildered a little with 
its endless attractions. Strong and I are still together. 

The great interest of your letters was what you 
told me of Fred's beginnings in the good work. 
Everything seems to be going splendidly with him, 
as everybody knew it would. I hear indirectly from 
parishioners, whom I meet here, of how great is the 
impression that he made in Philadelphia. I hope 
he will not be in such a hurry to settle far away, but 
that I shall see him somewhere in September. 

This is a poor letter, still I am no less your loving 



132 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

son, and will tell you so by word of mouth in seven 
weeks and a half. Good-by, love to all. 

Phillips. 



Arona, Lago Maggiore, 
Sunday, August 12, 1866. 

Deak William, — Last week I wrote from the 
borders of the lake of Brienz. To-day you see I am 
on an Italian lake, in a different atmosphere and 
among a very different people. The traveler over 
these Swiss passes is constantly changing back and 
forth between two nations and climates, as different as 
any to be conceived of. It was very striking, the 
other day, as we came over the St. Gotthard. At two 
o'clock we were in the midst of snow fields and icy 
streams, bleak mountain tops and cold, bitter winds ; 
then, as we began to descend, we came to sun, fruits, 
and flowers, and at five o'clock were reveling in the 
softest air and sunniest sky, the roads were hemmed 
in by endless vineyards, the girls were offering peaches 
and apricots at the diligence window, and soft Ital- 
ian words had taken the place in the lazy-looking 
people's mouths of the harsher German. 

Since last Sunday I have crossed the lake of Brienz, 
passed through the Brunig Pass to Lucerne, sailed 
over its lake, the most picturesque in Switzerland, 
climbed the Rigi, and spent the inevitable night there 
among its swarming tourists (the sunset was glorious, 
but the sun rose nobody knew when, for the dense 
cloud). We then drove to Andermatt, where we 
stopped to climb the Furca Pass and see the great 
Glacier of the Rhone, over the St. Gotthard, and down 
this noble lake to its southern point, whence I write 
to you. There is a feeble band playing outside the 



THUSIS. 133 

hotel, a young woman is walking across a rope over 
the street, and all the ceremonies of a Sunday circus 
are in fidl blast, to the great enjoyment of the popula- 
tion, priests and all. 

We shall spend a few days here among the lakes, 
and then strike northward again. Our plans will be 
regidated somewhat by the possibility which the very 
unsettled state of affairs allows of our visiting more or 
less of the Tyrol, but we hope to come out any way at 
Munich, and get a day or two there before I return to 
Paris to sail. To-day's newspaper brings the news 
that the armistice is signed at last and peace must 
follow soon. Mr. L. Napoleon, it seems, is cutting 
in about those Rhine provinces, and will probably get 
what he wants ; it is a way he has. . . . 

I received a letter from you at Andermatt, and a 
good one, too. Is Fred still with you ? I hope soon 
to hear something about his plans. Is n't it funny, to 
think that this is the last letter you will have any 
chance to answer ? Good-night, no end of love to all. 
Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Thusis, Switzerland, 
Sunday, August 19, 1866. 

Dear Father, — I wrote the other day to Fred, 
but I suppose that will not be allowed to pass for my 
weekly letter. At any rate, as there are only two 
more to write, I won't be mean, but give you the full 
measure. We are beginning to see our way through 
Switzerland now, and there are no broken heads or 
legs. Last Simday I wrote from the lower end of 
lake Maggiore. Since then we have seen the lakes 
Maggiore, Lugano, and Como ; all of them, especially 



134 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

tlie last, very beautiful. Indeed, in its own sort, 
nothing can be more lovely than lake Como. We 
stayed one day at Bellagio on its eastern shore, and 
then sailed down to Como, where we spent a night, 
and then up to Colico near its head. 

From here we drove over the Maloja Pass into the 
upper Engadine, one of the most interesting regions 
of all Switzerland, peculiar in climate, scenery, and 
customs. Their own description of their climate is 
that they have " nine months winter and three months 
cold," and as we entered their high table-land, out of 
sunny Italy, we put on gTeat-coats and buttoned up to 
the chin against the bitter cold. The scenery is very 
grand, hardly surpassed in the region of Mont Blanc or 
Monte Rosa. We stopped at Pontresina, and from 
there climbed the Piz Langiiard, the observatory 
mountain of the district, and had snow-j)eak and gla- 
cier ^dews of surpassing grandeur to our hearts' con- 
tent. Think of that, while you were sweltering in Bos- 
ton dog-days. They call their language, down there, 
the Ladein, and it comes nearer to the genuine old 
Latin than anything else in existence. It was very in- 
teresting. There is a great batliing establislmient in 
the Engadine, called St. Moritz, with lots of visitors, 
among others, a Mr. G. McClellan, formerly an Amer- 
ican general. I did not see him. 

From Pontresina we drove over the Alps again by 
the Julier Pass to Tiefenkasten, and from there 
walked across one of the picturesque foot passes to 
this little village on the banks of the infant Rhine, at 
the gate of the great Splugen Pass. From here we 
shall explore the Splugen and its wonderful Via Mala, 
then go north by Zurich to Constance, through their 
lakes, and so on to Munich. From there a little trip 



MUNICH. 135 

into the Austrian Tyrol, then back to Paris, where I 
hope to be three weeks from to-day. Four weeks 
from yesterday my boat is on the shore, my bark is 
on the sea, and my foreign travels will be over. 

There has been a great deal of heavy rain in Swit- 
zerland this year, but we have very happily escaped it 
almost all. I remember only four rainy days. It 
looks now a little as if it might be ugly weather to- 
morrow. 

No letters from home lately. Some more are or- 
dered to Zurich, where I shall get them Wednesday 
or Thursday. I hope you are all well and begin to 
have a sort of confidence that, as all has gone so cap- 
itally so far, I shall have no disappointment or bad 
news for the rest of my time. I hope you will have 
as perfect a success when you come. The Exposition, 
you know, is next summer. 

Strong wishes to be remembered to you. I suppose 
he will return to Paris with me. 

Phillips. 



I Hotel Vibrjahreszeiten, Munich, 

Sunday, August 26, 1866. 

Dear Mother, — Here goes for my last letter but 
one. If you have done such a foolish thing as to 
keep any of my letters, you might find among them 
one, almost a year back, dated from this same hotel 
with the horrible name to it, where I am writing 
now. How little time ago it seems ! But what a lot 
has come in between. It was last October, and I 
was just going to Vienna ; since then, all the East, 
Italy, France, England, and now Switzerland. Yes, 
Switzerland is done, and except for the little glimpse 



136 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

that I shall get of them in the beautiful Tyrol, I have 
seen my last of the white hills. I look forward to 
nothing afterwards but a quiet week of loafing in 
Paris, and then the steamer. Two weeks after you 
get this, I hope you will get me. 

I found letters at Constance from William and Mr. 
Coffin. William's was from that paradise on the 
seashore where they all went this summer. They 
seem to be haAong a splendid time, and not to en\y 
even Switzerland. I do not wonder that they enjoyed 
it, for they had sufficiently varied materials for a very 
pleasant party. I am glad that Fred was with them, 
and was not rector of anything up to that date. I 
dare not hope that such a state of things will last 
long, but it makes me think that I may possibly find 
him not yet emigrated to any of the ends of the earth 
when I get back. 

The great item of home news in the two last let- 
ters is one that interests me deeply. Bridget has 
gone ! You only state the bald fact, but give no 
particulars about her successor, as if it were not a 
matter of profound interest, even to an occasional 
visitor under the home roof. I do not care what her 
name is, but what can she do ? Has she any power 
to create those particular home dishes that have never 
been seen anywhere else ? Or is she some new 
person, who will introduce another order of things, 
and serve up the same round of endless stuff that one 
gets everywhere besides ? Remember, I insist on 
flapjacks and fishballs. As to Bridget, she never was 
a cheerful person ; rather glum and solemn, not a 
sunshiny picture to have about the house ; and her 
flapjacks for the last few years were nothing to what 
they were, a trifle clammy and heavy ; • so that I will 



PARIS. 137 

not shed any tears over her departure, but hope the 
new-comer may beat her all hollow. 

If this seems a foolish letter to send over the seas, 
just turn to my exceedingly sensible one, which I 
have no doubt I wrote last year, and read all you 
want to know about Munich. What 's the use of 
writing when I can tell you all in four weeks? 
Good-by. Love to everybody. 

Phillips. 

Grand Hotel, Paris, September 6, 1866. 
Dear William, — In answer to your last letter, 
here comes mine, written in a great hurry, at the last 
moment; you see I am so lazy, this farewell week in 
Paris, that I have not time for anything. My work 
is over, and I am just sitting here like a fellow who 
runs over the index of the book he has been reading, 
to see this epitome of all Europe and of all the 
world, — the cosmopolitan city, sparkling, beautiful 
Paris. But you will be here some day and see it for 
yourseK, so what 's the use of telling you ? Since I 
wrote from Munich, I have roamed down into the 
Tyrol and back again, and seen there some of the 
most picturesque of scenery and life. Then I put 
right off for here, where I shall stay till a week from 
to-morrow morning, when I take the train for a 
sixteen hours' ride to Brest, and then on Saturday 
afternoon go aboard the Ville de Paris, Captain 
Saumon, for New York. I shall get out of New 
York by the earliest conveyance for Boston, and 
probably be with you some time on the 26th or 27th. 
The last trip of the steamer from New York took a 
little over nine days. We shall be likely, at this 
season, to be a little slower, but you shall see me as 



138 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

soon as I can get over to Boston. Will you not drop 
a line to New York and tell them to send the 
" Nation " to Philadelphia ? 

So good-by. When you hear the doorbell ring at 
No. 41, some time week after next, if you don't 
make haste to let me in, I will give it to you. 

Your affectionate brother, Phill. 



% 



IN THE TYEOL AND SWITZERLAND, 

1870. 

Steamer HAMMOisnA, Tliursday, July 1, 18T0. 

Dear Father, — It rains to-day, and is very wet, 
miserable, and disagTeeable, the second bad day we 
have had on onr voyage. One cannot go on deck 
without getting wet through and his eyes f idl of cin- 
ders. The cabin is crowded and close, and I have 
slept and read till I cannot slee^) or read any more ; 
so you see it is time to begin to write home, and 
report myseK. 

We got off safely on Tuesday, the 28th, punctually 
at two o'clock. Monday night I spent at Potter's, 
and we went up to Thomas's Gardens and heard mu- 
sic. Mr. and Mrs. Franks met me at the station, but 
I suppose you have seen them before this. We were 
a queer set who sailed together, not many Americans, 
— Germans, Italians, Mexicans, Danes, and all sorts of 
people. It makes a very interesting ship's company. 
There are a lot of Jews ; nobody except Dr. Derby 
and his wife and the Mason family, whom I ever saw 
before. The ship is a good one, not equal in size or 
speed to the Ciuiard or French steamers, but more 
convenient in some respects. 

We have had a splendid passage, only two rainy 
days ; most of the time clear, bright, simny weather, 
and now moonlight nights. Being a screw steamer, 
she rolls pretty badly. I have been perfectly well 



140 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

and enjoyed it immensely. We shall be rather later 
than I expected; probably reach Phaiiouth some time 
to-morrow night, and Cherbourg Saturday morning. 
I shall go to Paris on Saturday night, and reach 
there about four o'clock on Sunday morning. I \\ill 
mail this at Plymouth, and your getting it will show 
you that I am so far safe. You j^i'obably will have 
seen the ship reported by telegraph. It has been a 
most propitious beginning for my little trip. 

I wonder what has happened at home since I left. 
Be sure and write me ever}i:hing ; TNT.'ite every week, 
some of you. I hope you are off to Niagara before 
this. Love all around. 

Affectionately your son, Phillips. 

COURMAYEUB, ItALT, 

Sunday, July 17, 1870. 

Dear Mother, — I have not written since I landed, 
of which I am a little ashamed, but I have been very 
busy, and it has been hard to find a place to write in. 
But here I am, on Sunday afternoon, sitting on the 
gallery of this queer hotel, in this funny old Italian 
town, on the south side of the Alps. In front is a 
tremendous mountain, with a great glacier upon its 
face, and at the foot an old square tower mth a 
peaked roof, which may have been a fortress, but is 
now a house full of beggars ; and in the street in front 
there is a crowd of people chattering a \ile language 
which is half Italian and half French. This morning 
I went to the English ser^ace here and heard a pretty 
good sermon. This afternoon I thought I would 
rather write to you. 

When I wrote to father we were still on the Ham- 
monia. She reached Plymouth on Friday afternoon, 



\ 



COURMAYEUR. 



141 



the 8th of July, and we landed a few passengers ^^^ 
then sailed to Cherbourg, where we arrived very eaTlj 
Saturday morning, the 9th. I landed about five o'clock'; 
and the steamer went on to Hamburg. From Cher- 
bourg it was a ride of all day by train to Paris, from 
eight A. M. to six p. M. Tbe first part of the rid^^ 
was through a country wholly new to me and very in- 
teresting, — Normandy, with its quaint people, towns, 
and splendid cathedrals ; Bayeux and Caen, and so on. 
I stayed over Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday in Paris, 
made some purchases, and enjoyed the life of the won- 
derful gay city. Then I rode all Tuesday night by rail 
to Geneva, where I met Cooper, and our Alpine trip 
began. First we drove to Chamomiix and looked Mont 
Blanc in the face, from the side where I have seen him 
before. He was good enpugli to be perfectly clear, 
and we saw him splendidly. 

The next morning we started, and bad a bard day's 
tramp over tbe Col de Yoza and through two of the 
great vallej^s of the Mont Blanc range, with magnifi- 
cent views all the way, and spent the night way up in 
the heart of the hills at a mountain chalet, where the 
cows and sheep had the lower story and we had the 
upper. It smelt of them a little, and we heard their 
bells, but the beds were good and we were very tired. 
The next morning we set out at five o'clock, and 
walked thirty-three miles over three high passes, across 
snow and rocks, and finally tlirough the Allee Blanche, 
the great gorge behind Mont Blanc, with its tremen- 
dous dome and its pinnacles and great rocky wall 
towering over us. It was splendid beyond all descrip- 
tion. We reached here at ten o'clock well tired out, 
and to-day are resting. From here we go on to Aosta ; 
then across the St. Theodule Pass to Zermatt, and 



142 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

sliaE sj^end next Sunday probably at Andermatt on 
the St. Gottliard Pass. 

/ I have engaged passage borne by tbe Ville de Paris, 
to sail on tbe lOtb of September from Brest ; tbe same 
steamer in wbicb I returned before. 

Everywhere there are rumors of wars about the 
X' Spanish business, but for three days we have been out 
of reach of telegraph and cannot know anything of 
their truth. Please tell father that I bought some 
bronzes in Paris, and ask him to pay the charges on 
the box and keep it for me. 

I have none of your letters yet, and shall not have 
any for a week or more ; but do keep ^\T?iting. I 
hope that you have been to Niagara. Good-by, love 
to all. Phillips. 

Andermatt, July 24, 1870. 

Deae William, — I wonder what you have all been 
about at home since I left you at the Worcester sta- 
tion four weeks ago to-morrow morning. I have not 
heard a word yet, and shall not get letters till to-mor- 
row night, when we reach Coire, to which place I have 
ordered letters sent. I hope you are all 'well and 
having a pleasant summer. Last Sunday I wrote to 
mother from Courmayeur in Italy. Since then we 
have had a week of splendid weather and constant 
movement. 

First, we rode down the beautiful valley of Aosta 
to Chatillon through ^dneyards, Italian towns, and 
very hot Italian roads. Tuesday we climbed up the 
steep and ugly valley of Yal Tournanche and slept at 
Breuil, under the shadow of the sj)lendid Matterhorn. 
Wednesday we crossed from Italy to Switzerland again 
by the glacier pass of St. Theodule, betv\^een the 



ANDERMATT. 143 

Matterhorn and Monte Rosa, with great views of both 
and a hundred giants besides, and descended to Zer- 
matt. Thursday we came down from Zermatt to the 
valley of the Rhone, and slept at Fiesch ; Friday we 
climbed the Eggishorn, one of the most magnificent 
points of view in all Switzerland, commanding the 
Jungfrau and its big neighbors and the great Aletsch 
Glacier (the longest in Switzerland), the Matterhorn, 
and Mont Blanc. Yesterday we came over the Furca 
Pass, close beside . the great Rhone Glacier, out of 
which the mighty river starts, and reached this quiet 
little German-Swiss village on the St. Gotthard road 
yesterday evening. 

It is a lovely day, and it is good to rest for twenty- 
four hours. To-morrow we are off for a ramble through 
northeast Switzerland, and shall bring up next Sunday 
at Ober-Ammergau for the great Miracle Play. When 
that is over, I shall have five weeks still for a jour- 
ney in the Tyrol before I go back to Paris to sail for 
home. 

Meanwhile, there is war in Europe, the most unne- 
cessary and wicked of wars that ever was made. France 
has been insolent and arrogant beyond herseK. It 
probably will be short and severe. A troop of soldiers 
just passed by the hotel. Switzerland, of course, is 
neutral, but is arming her borders. We have been 
out of the way of the war as yet, and probably shall 
not see much of it. 

Do write me how everything goes on at home and 
at the church. Give my love to Mary, and to all at 
home. Affectionately, Phill. 



144 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

IscHL,, Austria, July 31, 1870. 

Dear Father, — You have written me twice, and 
well deserve that this Sunday's letter should go to 
you. This Ischl is the great watering-place of Austria. 
Here the Emperor has his summer palace, and the 
great Vienna swells come hither to be under the 
shadow of his magnificence. Of com-se we Ameri- 
cans come, too, to see the fun. Besides this, it is 
one of the most beautiful sj)ots on the face of the 
earth. It is at the junction of five of the most 
lovely wild Tyrolese valleys, and is a pretty little 
open piece of plain with two bright streams running 
through it. 

We were at Andermatt last Sunday. We crossed 
the Oberalp on Monday, a long day's ride to Coire. 
There we spent a day, making a visit to the famous 
baths of Pf affers. From Coire we went by the lake 
of Constance and by rail to a quiet little Bavarian 
town, called Kempten. Here we heard what we had 
rumors of before, that the great Ober-Ammergau 
Passion Play was given up on account of the war, 
several of the principal characters having been drafted 
into the Bavarian army. This was a disappointment, 
for it was one of the great things which I had hoped 
to see in coming abroad. On Thursday we pushed 
on to Munich. Friday morning I saw at Munich a 
great mass in the cathedral on behalf of the German 
side of the war. The King and all his court were 
present. Bavaria seems very enthusiastic on the 
Grerman side. From Munich on Friday afternoon to 
Salzburg, the most picturesque of towns, where I had 
been five years ago, but was very glad to be again. 
Yesterday the loveliest ride, first by rail to the head of 
the Traun See ; then a beautiful sail down the lake. 



MALNITZ. 145 

and a ride of two hours up the valley of the Traun 
River to Austria, and here we are. 

The preparations for war go on. They interfere 
with us only so far as money is concerned. At 
Munich we had to lose eight per cent, on a draft 
on Paris. We have had no disappointment yet, 
except Ober-Ammergau. The Masons are here. I 
saw the Morrills at Munich. Your letters received up 
to July 9th. Now we go out of reach of letters for 
several weeks. I am very well. Love to all. 

Affectionately, Phill. 

MaTjNitz, Aug-ust 7, 18T0. 
Dear Mother, — I think you will not find this 
town on any map at home. Indeed, it is not easy to 
find when one is very close to it, for it is hidden 
away among mountains of the biggest kind, and is the 
littlest sort of a town itself. Besides this Hotel of 
the Chamois, where we are staying, and the church, 
which, like all the churches of this region, seems 
unreasonably large for the population, there is not 
another good-sized building in the village. The streets 
are sheep-paths, and there is not a vehicle in the 
town. But the scenery is gorgeous, and the simple 
ways of the people are very interesting. Yesterday, 
we walked over a high mountain pass from Bad Gas- 
tein. It is a rough and steep road, with a good deal 
of snow, etc. AH along the road were little shrines, 
put up where men at dangerous parts of the year had 
lost their lives by avalanches or falls, with rude pic- 
tures of the accident, and an address to the Virgin, 
and a horrible religious painting or carving of some 
sort. The people are very religious and very hos- 
pitable. It is quite pretty, the way they bless you 



146 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

and kiss your hand when you go away, particularly if 
you have paid them well. 

To be sure, their bread is dreadful, and their meat 
is cooked in fearful and wonderful ways ; but there is 
plenty of good milk and splendid beer everywhere, 
and eggs and trout abound ; you always walk enough 
to be hungry for any food. The beds are short, 
and the bedclothes shorter, but one gets along with 
a supplementary shawl and plenty of fatigue; and 
the mountains, lakes, meadows and waterfalls, are 
glorious. We have had a splendid week. Monday 
and Tuesday we spent among the lakes of the Salz- 
kammergut, the region about Ischl. There are a score 
of them, all beautiful, shut in by mountains, which 
you cross from one to another ; and there is always a 
Tyrolese girl, ready to take her boat and row you 
across to start on for another. 

Wednesday, we took a carriage, and for two days 
drove through the valley of the Salza, till, far up 
among the hills, we came to the very beautiful water- 
ing place of the Austrians, Bad Gastein. It is lovely 
as a dream, — just a deep mountain gorge with a 
wild cataract plunging down through it, and splendid 
mountains towering above ; mineral baths, which are 
very pleasant. Yesterday, we walked across the moun- 
tains, partly in the rain, spending two hours, wlule it 
was pouring, far up in a chalet, where they were 
making Swiss cheese in the dirtiest and most pictur- 
esque hole you ever saw. This is the first untimely 
rain that we have had. This next week will be our 
finest mountain week. 

The war goes on, but we only hear of it by occa- 
sionally seeing a week-old paper at some country inn. 
I hope it will not interfere with my getting to Paris 



MERAN. 147 

and sailing on the lOth of September. That is my 
selfish view of it. 

I shall not hear yet for three weeks, but then expect 
a batch of letters. I hope you are all well. Love 
to all. Affectionately your son, 

Phillips. 

Meean, Tyrol, August 14, 1870. 

Dear Fred, — I have been meaning to write you 
ever since I came abroad ; especially, I had a notion of 
writing to you on your birthday, the glorious 5th, but 
the mountains were too many for me, and every night 
I was so tired that I was fain to get into my uncom- 
fortable little Dutch bed as soon as possible. I warn 
you beforehand, that you will have an awful time 
with the beds when you come into these parts. You 
and I are too long. 1 have just escaped from a bed 
at this untimely hour on Sunday morning, because 
I could not stretch out straight, or make the narrow 
bedclothes come over me, and that 's the reason why 
at this present moment I come to be writing to you. 

I have had five glorious weeks of Switzerland and 
the Tyrol, Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, 
the Jungfrau, the Grossglockner, and the Marmo- 
lata. I have seen them all face to face, had splendid 
weather, walked myself into good condition, found the 
people interesting and amusing everywhere, and met 
with only one disappointment. That was in the giving 
up of the great Miracle Play at Ober-Ammergau, on 
account of the war, just before we reached there. It 
was a great disappointment, for one can never have 
another chance, and every one who saw it speaks of it 
as very wonderful. 

For the last three weeks we have been in the Tyrol. 



148 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

I like the people immensely, especially in south 
Tyrol; they seem to me to be the most cheerful, in- 
dustrious, hospitable peasantry in Europe. There is 
a pleasant mixture of Italian and German in their 
character, as there is in their language, look, and 
dress. They have very pleasant ways of doing things. 
It is pleasant, instead of the horrible gong which 
bangs away at Alliance or Crestline, or the blowsy 
Irishman who howls at you, " Dinner 's ready," to 
have a rosy, neat Tyrolese girl, as she puts down 
a dish of soup, wish you, " May you dine well," and 
as she gives you a candle at night say, " May God 
give you good sleep," and as she takes your fee at 
leaving, kiss your hand and wish you " lucky jour- 
ney." To be sure, the soup is often bad, and the 
bread almost always horrible, in the little out of the 
way inns, but their dreadfulness is made more toler- 
able by the people's pretty ways. It is embarrassing 
to happen to sneeze in a group of people ; every hat 
comes off, and the " God bless you's " are showered 
down in a distressing way. 

Off here in the hills, we hear only stray rumors of 
the terrible war. The great battle of last week, with 
its unexpected defeat of the French, has thrown all 
Europe into tumult, of which we get only the echoes. 
In two weeks I am going to Paris. What I shall find 
there I do not know ; unless better fortune comes to 
retrieve him, Napoleon must be shaken, and probably 
overthrown. There is a sort of revolution already in 
Paris. What a blessed thing for us, that big ocean 
between us and all this sort of thing I I wish you 
could be here this Sunday morning. Cleveland is 
pretty, but this is prettier. A lovely old valley, with 
vineyards at its bottom, and running up to the very 



BORMTO. 149 

tops of the higli hills that shut it in. Old castles and 
modern chateaux looking down from every side, and 
in the midst this queer old town, with peasants in 
their picturesque Sunday clothes, strolling back and 
forth over the bridge that crosses the little Adige, and 
an Italian sky and sunlight over everything. 

What a good time we had in Boston those last two 
days. Can't you come on in September, when Arthur 
will be there ? I hope we shall have many Sundays 
together as that last in June. Good-by, and good 
luck to you always. Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

BoBMio, August 21, 1870. 

Dear Father, — I have received a letter from 
you this week, written July 26, the second that has 
reached me. The mails seem to be deranged, and it 
is not strange. I have written once a week to some 
of you ever since I landed. I hope long before this 
the stream has begun to flow, and you have received 
my letters regularly. This week we have been finish- 
ing the Tyrol, From Meran to Innsbruck, where we 
spent a day ; then over the Finstermuntz and Stelvio 
passes, the last the grandest in Europe, till we came 
yesterday evening to this little Italian town, as pretty 
a spot as there is to find anywhere. We have had a 
little rain, but generally good weather, and a splendid 
time always. 

Hence we go through a bit of Switzerland, and 
gradually work up to Paris. How we shall get there 
I hardly know, or what we shall find when we are 
there ; but I apprehend no difficulty, and certainly 
no danger for a couple of peaceful travelers like our- 
selves. We are getting a little more into the way of 



150 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 

news now, and can regulate our movements better. 
The one clear opinion seems to be, that somehow the 
war points to an overthrow and end of Napoleon. 
The disappointment and mortification of the French 
at their great defeat seems to be terrible, and the state 
of things in Paris for a few days was most alarming. 
Things are quieter now, but only wait for the next 
struggle, which must be a frightful one. 

We meet no Americans ; indeed, we have not seen 
a person we know for three weeks. Probably, as we 
get more into Switzerland, we shall find our country- 
men there. 

So old No. 41 is down, and the new store is going 
up. It made me quite blue to hear of it; the world 
changes sadly, even our little bit of it, but we cer- 
tainly had a good time in the old house for many 
years. 

To-morrow I hope to get more letters. Three weeks 
from yesterday I sail for home ; may God bless and 
keep you all. Phillips. 

Hotel d'Okient, Paris, August 28, 1870. 

Dear Mother, — We are at last in Paris, after a 
long week's doubt whether we should be able to get 
here. We arrived this morning at eight o'clock, after 
a seventeen hours' ride from Geneva. We met with 
no detention further than having to wait here and 
there for trains loaded with cattle and provisions for 
the army. No Prussians stopped our way, and though 
it has been officially announced that the government 
has taken possession of the road, the order has not yet 
gone into effect, and passenger trains run regularly 
through. 

We have seen nothing here to-day to indicate that 



PARIS. 151 

the city is under martial law, that the Prussians are 
only two or thi'ee clays distant, and by all reports in 
full march for the fortifications. There are many sol- 
diers about, but the streets are emptier and stiller 
than I have ever seen them in Paris, and though there 
may be a row at any point at any moment, there cer- 
tainly was never a more peaceful and safe-looking 
city. What the real state of things is, it is very hard 
to tell. That the Prussian army is advancing on 
Paris, everybody seems to believe. The French papers 
say that it is a movement of desperation. The Prus- 
sians call it the march of a victor. Meanwhile, the 
mystery which envelops the condition and intentions 
of the French armies at Metz and Rheims leaves one 
utterly in the dark. Whatever comes, there seems no 
probability of any danger to a stranger living here, 
and I intend now to stay till a week from next Thurs- 
day or Friday, when I shall go to Brest, to sail the 
following Saturday. What we may have a chance to 
see in the mean time in Paris, we cannot say. You 
will hear by the telegraph before you get this, but be 
sure that I will take good care of myself and shall not 
be in any danger. 

We have come this week from Bormio, where I 
wrote last Sunday, by Tirano, an Italian town in the 
midst of its vineyards, over the Bernina Pass to Pon- 
tresina, in the midst of its glaciers, then over the 
Albida Pass to Chur, on by rail to Zurich, thence 
to Berne, where we had to stop to get our passports 
viseed by the French minister for admission into 
France, thence to Geneva, and so here. This ends 
our mountain work, almost seven weeks of as perfect 
and successful a trip as we could ask. Everything 
has gone well ; no accident, no sickness, and scarcely 



152 IN THE TYROL AXD SWITZERLAND. 

any bad weather. I am thankful I came, and now ten 
interesting days of Paris will complete the journey, 
except the voyage home in the Yille de Paris, which I 
expect to enjoy exceedingly. Why cannot you time 
your Xiagara trip so as to meet me at the ship on 
Wednesday, the 21st, or Thursday, the 22d, of Se}> 
tember. 

I had letters at Pontresina from you and father, 
which did me good. I have missed a nmnber of your 
letters, and was rejoiced to get these. I also had one 
from Arthur about his ordination. Please write him 
immediately that I will gladly come to Williamsport 
and preach the old sermon any time in October, if he 
can arrange it so that the whole trip can come in 
between two Sundays. 

It is cold and cheerless here to-day. I hope we are 
to have better weather for the gay cit}', which is bound 
to be gay, even if it is besieged. Love to all. 

Affectionately always, Phillips. 

Pakis, September 5, 1870. 

Deah William, — I write a line, which will prob- 
ably not get home before I do, but I may be detained, 
and this will tell you that I am well and coming. 
Yesterday was too busy and excitins; a day to ^Tite. 
As the telegTaph will have told you, there was a blood- 
less revolution and we went to bed last night under a 
Republic . I saw the whole thing, and was much in- 
terested in seeing how they make a Government here. 
You can have no conception of the excitement in 
Paris all day. 

I shall leave here to-morrow or Wednesday for 
Havre, and sail thence on Friday morning. There 
has been some difficulty in getting out of Paris, but I 



PARIS. 153 

do not anticipate any this week. Still, at the very 
last there may be something to hinder, and even 
should the Ville de Paris arrive without me, do not 
be worried, but know that I will turn up soon. 
Good-by, love to all. Vive la Kepublique ! 

Phillips. 



SUMMEE IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

1872. 

Steamship Palmyra, July 5, 1872. 

Dear Father, — The voyage is almost over. To- 
morrow morning we shall be at Queenstown, where 
I think we shall land, to go by Cork and Dublin to 
London. It will be pleasanter and quicker, and prob- 
ably get us to London on Sunday morning. (The 
ship rolls so that I cannot write straight.) We have 
had a very quiet passage, not much bright weather, 
but nothing rough to speak of. Dull skies almost all 
the way, with a good deal of rain. The ship is a very 
good and stanch little boat, rather slow, but still mak- 
ing steady headway, and as comfortable as she could 
be with her rather limited accommodations. Paine 
and I have found our stateroom exceedingly comfort- 
able, and with a few pleasant people on board, the 
time has passed briskly. I wonder how Fred has got 
along? His steamer must be not very far behind us, 
and I expect to see him in London by Tuesday. I 
shall be there with him until Friday, the 12th, when 
we sail to Christiania. We expect to reach there on 
the 16th, and then shall be o& for four weeks on a 
country trip in Norway. Paine will go with me. 

. . . On Sunday, we had a sermon from an English 
minister, whose presence saved me from preaching. 
It was a lovely day, the finest we have had. 

The voyage has been a very pleasant rest, and I 



LONDON. 155 

shall be ready for an active summer when we land- 
Some people get dreadfully wearied of the sea, but I 
find every moment of it pleasant, and never feel in 
better health or spirits anywhere. 

I hope that you are going to have a pleasant 
summer. Do spend a good part of it in writing to 
me. I shall look anxiously for my budget of letters 
every week, care of Jay Cooke, McCulloch & Co., 
London. 

I will write again from London after I meet Fred. 
My love to mother and all. Tell me what they are 
doing, and tell them all to write. 

Phillips. 

LoKDON, July 9, 1872. 

Dear Mothee, — I will begin a letter to you, now 
that I have a leisure moment, while I am waiting for 
Fred, who reported himself at the hotel this morning 
when I was out, and has not yet returned. So he has 
arrived, but I have not seen him yet. I wrote to 
father just before we landed from the Palmyra. We 
went to Cork and spent some hours there, and drove 
out to Blarney Castle, through some of the loveliest 
country that you can imagine. It was a glorious day, 
and we enjoyed it hugely ; then we took the train to 
Dublin, crossed the Irish Channel to Holyhead, a beau- 
tiful sail of five hours, and then a long night's ride by 
rail brought us to London, where we arrived at six 
o'clock on Sunday morning. 

Sunday I went to hear Stopford Brooke, at St. 
James's Chapel in the morning, and Dean Stanley 
at Westminster Abbey in the afternoon. It was a 
beautiful day. Monday morning we went down town 
to the bankers, and then to the picture galleries, 



156 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

and in tlie afternoon drove in Hyde Park to see the 
swells. We engaged passage on the Oder for Chris- 
tiania, which sails next Friday morning. We shall 
arrive there on Monday evening, the 15th. We also 
engaged passage on the Thuringia from Hamburg 
for New York on September 11. To-day we have 
been sight-seeing, — the great South Kensington Mu- 
seum and the International Exliibition with the new 
Memorial, which has just been opened, having been 
built by Queen Victoria in memory of Prince Albert. 
It is a very gorgeous and beautiful affair. 

Wednesday Evening-, July 10, 1872. 

Just here Frederick turned up, and from that time 
to this I have had his company. He is well, has 
enjoyed his voyage very much, and takes to traveling 
like a fish. He and I have scoured London to-day, 
called on the Archbishop of Canterbury, examined 
the British Museum and Westminster Abbey, visited 
Hyde Park, and this evening we have been to a con- 
cert at the splendid new Albert Hall. He means if 
possible to return with us in the Thuringia, but there 
is some uncertainty about getting staterooms. We 
shall know in a week or so. 

So the two great family trips are launched for the 
summer, and promise to go on well. You shall hear 
from point to point how we are faring. I do not feel 
as if these few days in London were really a part of it, 
and shall not think that we are fairly beginning until 
we are aboard the steamer for Christiania to-morrow 
night. London seems too familiar, and, with all its 
strangeness, a little too much like home to be really 
abroad. It has grown enormously since I was here in 
1865, and is simply too big to know much about in 



LILLEHAMMER. 157 

two or three years, so that two or three days in it 
go for very little. 

I am sorry to see what hot weather you have been 
having in Boston. I hope it is only the working off 
of heat for the whole summer, and that you will 
have it cool the rest of the time. Here the weather 
is delicious, — bright, cool, sunshiny days that quite 
disappoint one's ordinary expectations of London. 

Already I begin to feel how good it will be to 
get home. 

LiixEHAMsiEK, Norway, July 16, 1872. 

Dear William, — I have written to you in the 
course of our correspondence from many queer places, 
but perhaps this to-night is the queerest of them all. 
It is the neatest, triggest, cosiest little Norwegian inn, 
one day's journey from Christiania, just set in among 
the mountains at the head of lake Mjosen. The peo- 
ple in the courtyard under the windows are jabbering 
Norwegian and getting the horses ready for our cari- 
oles, which set out to-morrow morning at half past 
five. It is haK past nine o'clock in the evening, and 
broad daylight, so that a candle would be an absurdity. 
Last night at Christiania, I literally read a letter in 
the street at eleven o'clock, as you would at noon in 
Boston. 

But I must go back. Last Thursday evening I 
left Frederick in London, and went on board the 
steamer Oder for Christiania, which sailed the next 
morning at four o'clock. We had a pleasant little 
voyage of three days and a half across the North Sea 
and up the Skager Rack, touching on Sunday morn- 
ing at Christiansand, and arriving on Monday at 
Christiania. The steamer was good, the sea smooth, 



158 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

and all went very pleasantly. The sail along the Nor- 
wegian coast and up the Christiania Fiord was very 
beautiful. At Christiania, which is a very pretty, 
pleasant place, we spent yesterday, got our carioles, 
which are the j oiliest-looking traps you can imagine, 
this morning took them on the train, and then on the 
boat upon the lake to this village. To-morrow morn- 
ing we mount them for our first drive into the country. 
I wish that you could see us pass. Much more, I 
wish there were a third cariole, and you were in it. 

I wonder how Fred comes on. He seemed to be 
having a good time. I went with him to several of 
the great sights of London, which he appeared to en- 
joy, and was in good health and spirits. I hope he 
will find some companion for the Continent, for I am 
afraid he will be a little homesick sometimes, if he 
does not. He hopes to return with us in the Thurin- 
gia from Havre, September 14. 

Will you do something for me ? Will you go and 
see Mr. James T. Fields, and ask him (as I shall be 
rather later than I expected in getting home) to put 
my lecture on English Literature as late in the course 
as possible ? — at the very end if he can. I think he 
will have no trouble in doing it. 

No letters from you yet. I hope many are on the 
way, but we shall not get them till we come to Bergen 
some time next week ; but do keep on writing, and 
tell all the news, little and great. I hope you are 
having a pleasant summer. . . . 

Affectionately, 

Phillips. 



AAK. 159 

Aak, Norway, July 22, 1872. 

Dear Fathee, — We have been spending Sunday 
at this remote little place in the mountains, at the 
mouth of the Eomsdaal Yalley, which is one of the 
most remarkable gorges in Norway. We came here 
in a three days' journey from Lillehammer, whence I 
wrote to William last Wednesday. The traveling is 
very odd. We have our own carioles, which we took 
with us from Christiania, having hired them for a 
month. In these we travel about fifty miles a day. 
The cariole is a sort of sulky, something like a 
country doctor's chaise, with just room for one person 
and a place to strap on a valise behind. The roads 
have stations every ten miles or so, where the people 
are obliged to furnish you a change of horse, which 
you take on to the next station. A small boy goes 
perched on the baggage behind to bring the horse 
back. In this way we are always changing horses. 
I have driven some twenty or thirty already, mostly 
strong, willing little brutes, who make very good time 
and do not seem to mind my overweight. The road 
has been very beautiful ; last evening's ride, espe- 
cially, was most magnificent, through the gorge of 
Romsdaal. There is nothing in Switzerland like it. 
Our weather has been generally excellent, with occa- 
sional showers which have not hurt us, nor delayed us 
much. It is a land where it makes not the slightest 
difference when you travel, for it is broad daylight 
an night, being literally light enough to read easily in 
the open air at midnight. The only trouble is to get 
to sleep at night with the daylight in the room, 
and to keep asleep in the morning. 

This morning we walked about three miles to a 
Norwegian country church, and attended service there. 



160 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

It was very interesting. The little clinrcli was 
crowded and the service was full of spirit. The ser- 
mon was dreadfully long, at least to us who listened 
to it as foreigners, and did not understand a word. 
After service there was a baptism of two babies, and 
then the catechising of the girls and boys of the 
parish — funny little folks they were ! The people all 
belong to the Lutheran chui'ch, which is the Estab- 
lished Church of the Kingdom. They are a most 
thrifty, decent, poverty-stricken people, perfectly 
honest, and not at all handsome. 

I wish that you could see the view as I look out of 
my window. The valley is completely shut in by 
mountains of the most gigantic size, and splendid 
in their shapes. A beautiful green river runs down 
through it, and the fields in the bottom of the valley 
are green and rich. A pair of carioles has just driven 
up to the little inn door, and the people are chat- 
tering in Norse about rooms and suppers in the 
most excited way. 

To-morrow morning we take a little steamer very 
early to go to Molde, {[ovni one of the most beautiful 
fiords ; then we shall keep down the coast to Bergen, 
explormg the fiords as we go along; from Bergen 
back across the country to Cln-istiania, where we 
shall be in about three weeks ; then to Stocldiohn, 
St. Petersburg, Moscow, Copenhagen, Hamburg; and 
then home. Nothing from Fred; you have heard 
from him of course. Love to all. 

Most affectionately yours, Phillips. 



STEAMER FJALIR. 161 

Steamer Fjalir, on the Nord Fiord, Norway, 
July 25, 1872. 

Dear Mother, — It is a rainy forenoon on a steam- 
boat, and there is nothing j)leasanter than to sit in the 
little cabin and write my weekly letter to you, although 
it is before its time. We are on our way to Bergen, 
running down one of the countless fiords that cut up 
the coast of Norway into slices. Last Sunday after- 
noon, I wrote to father from Aak, at the foot of the 
Romsdaal Valley. Monday morning, we drove in our 
carioles down to the head of the Molde Fiord, and 
there, carioles and all, went on a boat, and sailed, 
in the midst of the grandest scenery, to Molde, where 
we stopped a couple of hours and dined on salmon 
and lobster, which are about the only things that 
grow along this coast. Both are superb. That after- 
noon, we sailed along the coast to Aalsmid, a little 
village with a most lovely situation, which is famous 
for nothing except the cod -liver oil which they make 
there. We passed the night in short beds, and the 
next day sailed up the Stor Fiord and its branch, the 
Geiranger Fiord, which is called the grandest in 
Norway. It is certainly magnificent. The narrow 
arm of the sea, with bright green water, is shut in 
between perpendicular cliffs of granite, two or tln?ee 
thousand feet high, over which countless waterfalls 
oome tumbling down in every conceivable shape. The 
stillness and wildness is wonderfully impressive. We 
spent that night at a little group of fishermen's huts, 
and slept in a schoolhouse, because the inn, which only 
has six beds, was full. We called on the Pastor of 
the place, and spent an hour with him. He is the 
only educated man of the whole region, and was very 
hospitable and conversible, speaking very tolerable 



162 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

English. Yesterday morning, we put the wheels on 
our carioles again, and drove all day across the coun- 
try, through magnificent scenery, to a little inn called 
Faleide, on this Fiord, where last night we took the 
boat for Bergen. The cabin is full of Norwegians, 
talking their unintelligible tongue. There is one Ger- 
man family from Hamburg, who are pleasant people, 
and with whom, between their English and our 
German, we get along very well. To-morrow noon 
we reach Bergen, and there I hope to get my first 
letters from you all. After a day or two, we start 
again into the country, and spend two weeks more 
before we come back to Christiania. About the 12th 
of August we leave Christiania for Sweden, going to 
Stockholm. On the 22d we go to St. Petersburg and 
Moscow, returning the first week in SejDtember. We 
sail from St. Petersburg by Lubec to Copenhagen, 
and thence go do^ai to Hamburg and take the Thu- 
ringia, either there on the 11th, or at Havre on the 
14th. So all goes well. I am having a splendid 
time. This rain, I have no doubt, will clear up to- 
morrow, and with much love to all, I am always 
Affectionately ours, 

Phillips. 

Steaseer between Bergen and Christiania, 
Jidy 27, 1872. 

Since I wrote the inclosed sheet, our plans have 
changed. . . . Paine has been called home. We are 
now on our way to Christiania, and he will stop on his 
way at Christiansand, go thence to Hamburg, and so 
home by next week's steamer. I shall go to Chris- 
tiania, to take back our carioles and close up things 
there. I am not quite sure what I shall do after- 



STOCKHOLM. 163 

wards ; probably go to Sweden, and thence cross into 
Russia, and come home by way of some of the north- 
ern German cities. 

We are having quite a royal progress to-day. Prince 
Oscar, brother of the king, is on board, and at every 
town where we stop, there is a boisterous welcome and 
farewell. Good-by again, and write often. 

Hotel Rydbekg, Stockholm, August 4, 1872. 

Dear William, — The stream of communication 
this summer seems to flow all one way. Since father's 
letter, dated just a month ago to-day, there is not a 
word from my beloved family, or anybody else in 
America. I hope they are well, but either they have 
not written, or Jay Cooke is faithless, or I have 
been running about too fast for letters to catch me. 
I hope Fred has been more fortunate than I. Here I 
am now in Stockholm, one of the nicest, brightest, 
gayest looking cities I have e^er seen. I am very 
much delighted with it. It runs all about over a 
quantity of islands, in Venetian sort of style, and little 
bits of steamboats go racing back and forth. The peo- 
ple are bright and good-looking, and there are gardens 
and cafes everywhere. Friday evening, I went to the 
Deer Park to a concert, and the whole scene was as 
pretty as any tiling in Paris or Vienna. After I wrote 
last week, I came back to Christiania, and thence 
sailed down to Gottenburg, and thence by the Gotha 
canal here. It was a lovely day on the canal, and the 
scenery was very pretty. Yesterday, I went to Upsala, 
where is the great Swedish university, the old cathe- 
dral, and the oldest relics of their history. Under 
three great mounds, their Odin, Thor, and Freia are 
said to be buried. 



164 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

To-morrow morning, I am going off to Gottland, 
where there are some strange old relics of architec- 
ture, and the whole place is said to be very picturesque 
and curious. It is a trip of two or three days, and 
then I come back here. After that, probably to Eus- 
sia, where I expect to arrive next Sunday. 

There are very few Americans in these parts, — a 
good many English, and lots of Swedes. I like the 
Swedes very much. They are brighter and more 
cheerful than the Norwegians, and very kind and will- 
ing to oblige. The coimtry seems prosperous and 
happy. The environs of Stockliolm are beautifid. 
Come here, and look at this pretty town, when you 
bring Mary and Agnes to Europe. 

I hope they are well, and that you are not having 
the absurdly hot weather with which you began the 
smnmer. Already, we are within sight of the end 
of it. How strange it will seem to be settled down 
again to the old round for another winter. Paine is 
on his voyage home by this time. I suppose you 
may see him before this reaches you. If you have 
not written to me, pray write, and if you have written, 
write again, Phillips. 

Abo, FiNiiAND, AugTist 10, 1812. 
Dear Father, — Did you ever get a letter from 
Finland? If not, then here comes your first. I write 
in the sincere belief that I am answering some letters 
of yours, although I have not received them. Some- 
how, I have missed everything since your letters of 
July 4th. I hope notliing important has happened 
since that time. If there has, I do not know where I 
shall hear of it. Perhaps at St. Petersburg, whither 
I am bound now. But I must wait patiently. I left 



ABO. 165 

Stockholm yesterday morning, in tlie steamer Con- 
stantin, at two o'clock. 

Steamers have an nncomfortable habit of starting 
at that hour all over these parts. The boat is excel- 
lent; all sorts of languages, Russian, Swedish, Fin- 
nish, French, and German, are chattering aromid me. 
There are also three or four Englishmen on board. 
To-day's sail has been exquisite, w^andering through 
the islands of which this part of the Baltic is full, 
with views continually changing, and all pretty. At 
five this afternoon we came to Abo, at the mouth 
of the Gulf of Finland, and there we lie to-night. 
The steamers always lie by until two in the morning. 
To-morrow, we wind up the gulf among the islands. 
To-morrow night at Helsingfors, Sunday night at 
Yyborg, and Monday noon, the 12th, at St. Peters- 
biu'g. The Fins are a good, dull, rude-looking people. 
We went ashore this afternoon and saw the strange 
old town. Nothing could be more foreign or pictur- 
esque. It was odd to find one's self for the first time 
in the Czar's dominions, but all his folks were very 
civil and seemed glad to see us. 

I made this week a very interesting two-days' trip 
to the old town of Wisby and the Island of Gotliland. 
It was a tw^elve hours' sail down the Baltic at night. 
In the morning, we reached the island, and saw the 
old walled town, which was once a place of great trade 
and importance, but now in decay. The most inter- 
esting things in it are a dozen old ruined Gothic 
churches, some of them quite unique in architectm'e, 
and all showing the taste and wealth of the old times. 
At present, the island is something of a smnmer resort 
for Stockliolm people. 

We took a long drive back into the country, through 



166 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

rich farms and pleasant hills, the whole a picture of 
quiet, primitive, pastoral simplicity, which was very 
attractive. Another night's sail brought us back to 
Stockholm, wliich is a most beautiful city, and after 
another day there, I sailed on this slow and pleas- 
ant cruise for St. Petersburg. 

Since Paine left me, two weeks ago, I am alone, but 
meet companions often from point to point. There 
are almost no Americans in these parts. It seems 
a long way from home. I shall spend two or three 
weeks in Russia, going to Moscow, and perhaps to 
Nijni-Novgorod ; then to Berlin, Lubeck, and Copen- 
hagen, and so to Hamburg, whence I sail for New 
York, on September 11. . . . After you get this, di- 
rect your letters to Hamburg. I shall get them 
sooner. 

I am very well and haAdng a first-rate time. Have 
not had a hot day this summer. I hope you are all 
well and happy, and with much love to all, I am 
most sincerely your son, Phillips. 

MoscoTT, August 18, 1872. 
Dear Mother, — Last Sunday, when I wrote to 
father, we were crossing the Gulf of Finland, making 
for St. Petersburg. We passed the great fortifications 
at Cronstadt, and landed at the city Sunday even- 
ing ; the next three days I spent in seeing the great 
capital. Everything in it is on the most enormous 
scale. Its palaces, the biggest and most gorgeous ; 
its churches, the richest; its squares, the most mag- 
nificent in Europe. Its great church of St. Isaak 
is a wonder of marble, gold, and jewels. It cost 
$35,000,000, or about one hundred and fifty of the 
new Trinity. The picture gallery is one of the great- 



MOSCOW. 167 

est of the world, with some pictures one cannot see 
anywhere else. The whole country about the city is 
full of magnificent palaces, with splendid grounds and 
fountains, where one goes in the afternoon, and hears 
bands play in the evening, and takes a quiet sail on 
the Neva back to St. Petersburg, with the moon 
shining on the golden domes. What do you think 
of that? 

Grand as St. Petersburg is, it is only the vestibule 
to Moscow. You come here by rail, a long, dreary 
ride of twenty hours, with poor sleeping cars, for which 
you pay fifteen dollars. This Russia is the most ex- 
pensive country I have ever traveled in. But when 
you get here, you are in the midst of picturesqueness 
such as you can see nowhere else. Think of three 
hundred domes and spires, all different, all gold or 
silver, blue or green, with golden stars, crosses, and 
crescents, and blazing under the intense sun that 
beats down on this plain. Yesterday afternoon, I 
drove out to a hill near the city, the hill from which 
Napoleon first saw it, and the view, as it lay glittering 
in the afternoon sun, was like fairyland. Then you 
step inside a church or palace, and it is all brilliant 
with gold ; barbarous in taste, but very gorgeous. The 
streets are full of splendor and squalidness, all mixed 
together. First the grand coach and splendid horses 
of a nobleman, and then the wretched procession of 
convicts, chained together, men and women, starting 
off on their long journey to Siberia. Everything has 
the look of semi-civilization, exceedingly interesting, 
though not attractive ; but a country with some vast 
future before it, certainly. 

I hope you are all well, but I have not heard yet, 
nor shall I for a couple of weeks. I have been very 



168 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 

unfortunate, but your letters at the last must reacL. me 
at Copenhagen. The last tidings I had were dated 
only a week after I sailed. It has detracted much 
from the pleasure of my journey, which otherwise has 
been very delightful. The weather here is exquisite. 
I see no Axaericans and few English. I have been 
with an Englishman, but leave him to-morrow to go to 
the Great Fair at Xijni-Xovgorod, where we have only 
the company of a French interpreter. Thence, in the 
last part of the week, I begin to tm-n my feet west- 
ward; next Sunday, I shall probably write to you 
from somewhere outside of Eussia. Love to all. 
Yours affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Hotel du Xokd, Beklts', 
August 25, 1872. 

Deah Willloi, — I remember very well writing a 
letter to you from this very hotel scA^en years ago. 
It was about the beginning of my first trip to Europe. 
There have been several changes since then, and I 
hope for the better. I reached here only this morn- 
ing, and find Berlin the same bright, cheerful-looking, 
great city I remember it. It has gTown and improved 
immensely. Everywhere you feel that you are in the 
midst of a very gTcat, strong, self-assured Emj^ire. 
Prussia is certainly the biggest thing in Eiu'ope to-day. 
But Russia is not to be sneezed at, either. 

I was at Moscow when I wrote last. From there I 
went on a trij) to Nijni-Novgorod, on the Volga, where 
the great annual Fair is being held. It is about 
twelve hours from Moscow, and quite in the centre of 
Russia, so that the joiu-ney there and back gives one a 
chance to see much of the country. Vast numbers of 



BERLIN. 169 

people gather every year from the east and west, and set 
up a whole city of temporary shops for three months, 
on a low, sandy point of land, at the meeting of 
the Volga and the Oka. The crowd is most curious 
and picturesque. Persians, Tartars, Armenians, Chi- 
nese, Caucasians, Jews, and Europeans of every sort ; 
with all their various goods — teas, skins, fruits, car- 
pets, great miles of iron from Siberia, and wheat from 
the Black Sea, — every language and dress you can 
picture. All this goes on for three months, and then 
they shut up shop and go home, and the place is de- 
serted until the next year. 

The Fair was in full blast this week, and I saw it 
to good advantage. Then I came back to Moscow, 
spent another day, and saw the wonders of the Krem- 
lin again. Then to St. Petersburg and to Warsaw, 
where I had a day, and a very pleasant one. It is a 
bright, live city, with fine buildings and beautiful pal- 
aces and gardens. I liked what I saw of the Poles 
very much indeed. Yesterday I left Warsaw at three, 
and reached here this morning at five. I went to 
church this morning and heard a very poor sermon. 
I hope you had a better one in Trinity. Now I am 
going to Lubeck and thence to Copenhagen. I sail 
from Hamburg two weeks from next Wednesday. . . . 
I shall be glad to be at home and at work again, though 
very sorry to break off this pleasant life. . . . 

Is it really true that Greeley stands a good chance 
for thg Presidency ? 

My kind love to Mary, Agnes, and all at home. 
Thanks for the letters which you have written. 

Yours always, Phillips. 



170 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 



Ha^eburg, September 1, 1872. 

Dear Father, — I feel as if I owed you and mo- 
tlier about a dozen letters to-day, for since last Sun- 
day I have been wonderfully blessed in tbe way of 
hearing from you. At CopenJiagenl received eight- 
een letters, the accumulation of the summer, and now 
I understand all about you and your doings up to 
August 16. You must have had a frightful sum- 
mer, with the heat and the thunder-storms. I am 
sorry for the discomfort you must have suffered, but 
glad of the philosophy with which you seem to have 
borne it. 

I passed a day in Berlin, and then went to Lu- 
beck, where I stayed another day. It is a picturesque 
old place, the most old-fashioned town in northern 
Europe, and I had a good time there. Then a pleas- 
ant sail of fifteen hours carried me to Copenhagen, 
where I spent three days. It is full of interest. The 
Museum of Northern Antiquities is something quite 
unique. I had a letter from Mr. Winthrop to the Di- 
rector, Professor W , but found that he had gone 

away to the Archaeological Congress at Brussels, but 
the letter secured me a reception by one of his assist- 
ants, who went carefully with me through the museum. 
I found also in Co]Denhagen a gentleman vaih. whom I 
crossed in the Hammonia two years ago, who was very 
hospitable, and so I enjoyed the place very much. I 
bought one or two j)ieces of old carved furniture, 
which will be at home by and by. One day I went 
to Elsinore, and saw the ships in the Straits, and 
walked on the platform w^here Hamlet met the ghost. 
The great Exhibition is open at Copenhagen, and I 
saw the King, all the royal people, and the Princess 



HAMBURG. 171 

of Wales. Last niglit I came thence by rail and 
boat to this great town. Among my letters was one 
from Fred, who wanted me to meet him in Paris, 
and I think I shall do so. I have thought of going- 
back to Berlin for the gTeat review next Saturday, but 
I shall give that up, a noble sacrifice to fraternal affec- 
tion. I shall go by way of the Rhine, and next Sun- 
day Frederick and I will be at the H6tel du Louvre, 
Paris. Two weeks from to-day we shall be on the 
Thuringia. . . . 

Your affectionate son, Phillips. 



FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
1874. 

Albemarle Hotel, London, 
Sunday morning, July 19, 1874. 

Dear William, — Tliis Sunday morning, your at- 
mosphere must be a great deal clearer tlian tlie smoky 
London air in wliicli I am looking out, tkrougk whicli 
I can just tell that it is a very pleasant day. I hope 
you will have a good Smiday. . . . 

Your letter, which came day before yesterday, was 
the first that reached me, and was a most welcome be- 
ginning to the new spell of correspondence. It seems 
curious to start it off again for the fourth time. This 
trip, so far, has been a little different from the others. 
I have seen something more of people and received 
more hospitality than when I have been in England be- 
fore. Everybody has been most cordial and civil. . . , 
What I have seen have been mostly clerical circles, but 
in some ways clergymen and laymen are more mixed 
up and have more common interests here than in 
America. Eor instance, all are excited now about the 
Public Worship Bill. They talk of it at dinner, and 
write of it in the newspapers in a way that much sur- 
prises us, who ordinarily leave such things to our 
Bishop and the people who go to the General Conven- 
tion. It seems now as if the Bill woidd become a law, 
and it is hard to believe that it can do much good. 

I have seen a good deal of London over again with 



MORLAIX. 173 

Arthur. There are many things in it that never tire, 
and the great city seems to grow more and more enor- 
mous every time we come. Last Monday we went all 
over Westminster Abbey with Dean Stanley, who 
knows it as well as I know the Technological Hall. 
It was a very interesting morning, and I wished you 
were there. I preached there the evening before to 
such a crowd, and under such a roof, and among such 
columns and monuments as one does not often see. 
On Tuesday I went to the annual dinner of the sing- 
ing people of the Abbey, in the Jerusalem Chamber, 
where we did all kinds of queer old English customs, 
sang, and made speeches till ever so late. I was the 
only one of the preachers of the year present, and had 
to speak for them all. Think of speaking for Bishops 
and Archbishops ! . . . 

On Friday, Arthur and I went to a dinner at Mr. 
Freemantle's, who was in America last year. Arthur 
sat next to Lady Augusta Stanley, the Dean's wife. 
He (Arthur) has been off for four days on a cathe- 
dral trip, and I have been visiting in the country. 
To-day I am to preach in St. Philip's Regent Street, 
for Mr. Leathes, whom I saw in America last year. 
To-morrow morning we leave for France by New Haven 
and Dieppe, and begin at once on Normandy. How 
I wish you were here. Shall we not come together 
some day ? Write me punctually, and I will always 
answer. Affectionately, Phill. 

MoRLAix, France, July 28, 18Y4. 

Dear Mother, — Arthur says this is a "dutiful 

scene." He is sitting on one side of a wretched little 

table, in this quaint old hotel, ^vriting to John, and I 

am just beginning this note to you upon the other 



174 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 

side. I dare say our letters will be very mucli alike, 
for there is nothing to tell, except where we have been 
and what we have seen ; that is rich enough. A week 
ago yesterday we crossed from New Haven to Dieppe, 
and had a very beautifid voyage. The sea was calm 
and bright ; the coast that we left and the coast to 
which we came, both were beautiful. Then we went 
up to Rouen, and spent a lovely day among its old 
Gothic architecture. There is nothing more beauti- 
ful in Europe. Then we struck off into the coun- 
try, and for a week we have been wandering around 
among old Norman towns, each odder and more 
picturesque than any that have gone before. Pont- 
Audemer, Lisieux, Caen, Bayeux, St. Lo, Coutances, 
Granville, Avranches, Pontorson, Dol-E-ennes, Mor- 
laix, these are mere names to you, as they were a week 
ago to us, but now they are all places to remember, — 
old towns, each with its churches six or eight hundred 
years old, some with magnificent cathedrals, and all 
with curious houses tumbling out over the streets, and 
carved from top to bottom with the queerest figures in 
their oak thnbers, apostles, prophets, martyrs, dragons, 
donkeys, trees, soldiers, and great wreaths of flowers. 
The streets themselves are full of interesting people, 
doing the oddest things. Women with high, white 
caps, men with wooden shoes clattering along the j)ave- 
ments, children playing strange games, and donkeys 
laboring along with loads three times as big as them- 
selves. 

All the places are full of history. Here William the 
Conqueror was born, and here he was buried ; here the 
Huguenots once burned the church, and there the Roy- 
alists withstood the Republicans in the French Revo- 
lution. All this makes Boston seem far away, and 



TOURS. 175 

the sense of vacation very complete. To-day we 
passed from Normandy to Brittany, a rougher, ruder 
country, and a wilder people. Last Sunday we spent 
at Granville, a curious French watering-place upon 
the coast, and after a service in the old cathedral, we 
bathed and swam from the great beach. Arthur is 
well, and seems to enjoy it all. To-night we received 
letters up to July 9. Here are some nice old people 
and " Little Wanderers " from Brittany. Are n't they 
pretty ? Love to all. Write often. 

Phillips. 

Tours, Tuesday Evening-, AugTist 4, 18Y4. 

Dear William, — Here I have just received your 
second letter, fidl of pleasant talk, and telling every 
kind of interesting thing about Andover, Mary, and 
all the other people. I was glad to get it. For a 
week we have wandered on through Brittany, looked 
at old castles and cathedrals, and talked together 
about you all, but have heard nothing since last Tues- 
day evening. Arthur receives no end of newspaper 
cuttings, telling about the great Chicago fire, but my 
only home letter is yours, and I am satisfied. I won- 
der if you have followed us upon the map ? We have 
rounded the promontory of Finisterre, out on the 
northern side almost to Brest, as far as St. Pol de 
Leon and Lesneven ; then down to Quimper, and by 
Auray and Carac to Angers, where we spent last 
Sunday. To-day, our trip has been to Poitiers, and 
here we are to-night at Tours. It has been almost 
exactly the journey which I laid out at my table in 
the Kempton, and has proved about the best that 
could be made. I have been amazed at the richness 
of the old architecture of the country. Li little out 



176 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 

of the way villages, readied only by rickety country 
wagons, we liave found glorious and immense churches 
of the rarest beauty, — churches that took centuries to 
build, and stand to-day perfect in their splendor, with 
wonderful glass in their windows, and columns and 
capitals that take your breath away for beauty. The 
people of Brittany are rough enough, and some of the 
inns at which we spent the night were dirty and for- 
lorn ; but the people were always kind and civil, and 
did their best to make us comfortable. They show 
clearly enough that they are of the old Celtic stock, 
true cousins of the Irishmen we know so well. We 
had some drives, and we met laborers by the score, 
who might easily have been turning up the bog in 
Ireland, or driving a dirt cart among the ruins of 
Fort Hill. They are a very devout folk, even to 
superstition, and altogether interesting and filthy. 

Now we are out of Brittany, and making our way 
from town to town along the splendid valley of the 
Loire. There is a cathedral here in Tours (with 
twin towers) that staggers you with its splendor, as 
you come suddenly out of a little dark, crooked street 
and stand in front of it. Yesterday, Le Mans had 
another, and to-day Poitiers was wonderfully rich. All 
the while your letters come in most welcome, and are 
better than cathedrals. Now you must be just about 
going up to Andover and cooling yourself after a hot 
day. My blessing to you always, and to Mary and 
the bairns. Do not forget to write. Yours always, 

P. 

Venice, Friday Evening-, August 21, 1874. 

Dear William, — I fully expected, when we arrived 
here this afternoon, to find a letter from you, and per- 



VENICE. Ill 

haps from some of the other good folks at home, but 
they had not come, so this goes not as answer to any- 
thing in particular, but only to tell you generally how 
we fare. We have reached the Adriatic. After two 
days in Milan, we rode to-day across the beautiful 
plain of northern Italy, and came in over the Lagune 
to this wonderful city. It is nine years since I was 
here, but the city, which has stood for more than nine 
hundred years, has not changed much since I saw it 
last. St. Mark's is just where I left it in the great 
square, and the gondoliers are singing and rowing in 
the canal under my windows, just as of old. It has 
been a varied enough trip that we have taken, London, 
Brittany, Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. It has been 
delightful. We have been rather too much hurried ; 
I think we shall stay here for a week, and see the 
strange old city thoroughly. Arthur is enjoying it 
very much. 

The hotel here is full of English and American 
people. At the table to-day everybody, except one, 
talked English ; but there is nobody we ever saw be- 
fore, and we still make each other's company. I 
wonder if you have had a pleasant summer ? In spite 
of all the delight of this sort of life, it will not be bad 
to get back again, settle down, and talk it over in 
West Cedar Street or Berkeley Street. 

. . . The news from home seems quiet, except that 
I see there is more trouble at the South. 

Four weeks from to-day I shall be on the ocean, 
and six weeks from to-day I will spend the evening 
with you if you will ask me. My kindest love to 
Mary, the babies, and all at home. 

Yours most affectionately, P. 



178 FROM LONDON TO VENICE, 

Sunday, August 23, 1874. 

Dear Father, — This has been Sunday in Ven- 
ice. This morning, we set out like good boys to go 
to church, but when our gondola reached the palace 
on the Grand Canal where service is wont to be held, 
we found a man upon the steps to say there was no 
service because the chaplain had gone into the coun- 
try. It sounded very much like what might be said 
upon the steps of Teclmological Hall ; so Arthur and 
I made a round of the great churches, and looked at 
the pictures in them until dinner time. If we did not 
go to church, we went to churches. This evening, 
the moon is splendid on the water, and we took a 
gondola again, and rowed round about the beautiful 
old place for an hour. That has been our Sunday. 
We are lying by at Venice for refreshment, and no- 
thing could be more delightful. The weather is ex- 
quisite, cool, clear, and cloudless. The pictures are 
glorious, and you do not walk anywhere, because 
you cannot, but are rowed wherever you want to go 
in the most luxurious style. 

We came here over the Alps and by Milan. There 
we spent two days, about one of which I wrote last 
night, a letter which you will see by and by in the 
" Standard of the Cross." We shall stay here till 
Thursday or Friday, and then start through the 
Tyrol, slowly, by way of Munich and the Rhine, to 
Paris. Three weeks from Thursday we sail. On the 
8th of September we mean to reach Paris. Think of 
us there. 

I wonder what you are doing ; how I wish you were 
here to see the Ducal Palace with us to-morrow. It 
would be great fun, too, to see the gondolas go out. 
I have seen nothing of the Winthrops, but have had a 



MAYENCE. 179 

letter from Mrs. Winthrop, who is in Germany. My 
love to all. P. 

Mayence, September 4, 1874. 

Deae William, — Let me see. The last time I 
wrote to you I was in the top story of a hotel at 
Venice, looking down upon the Grand Canal. To- 
night, I am in the top story of a hotel at Mayence, 
looking down upon the Rhine. From Italy to Ger- 
many ! The change is complete enough, but the two 
evening views out of the windows are not so unlike. We 
have come up through the Tyrol, over the great Am- 
pezzo Pass that I have long wanted to see, and which we 
saw pretty well. There was more or less of rain to 
keep the magnificent Dolomites from showing their 
most splendid heads, but on the whole the three days 
were a success, and brought us by Innsbruck to 
Munich, where we spent Sunday and Monday. I 
have been there several times before, but it is a bright, 
cheery city, full of art treasures, which I do not care 
how often I see. Then we went to Ratisbon, and to 
Nuremberg, which was quaint and lovely. They were 
celebrating Sedan, and the gray old town was gay 
with colored banners and flowers. Then there was a 
queer Fourth-of-Julyish procession in the afternoon, 
and the boys sang the " Wacht am Rhein" about the 
streets all the evening. After that we went to Hei- 
delberg, and saw the grand old castle, the noblest 
thing of its sort in Europe. To-day, we came up to 
Worms and saw the cathedral, and thought of Luther 
at the Diet, and this afternoon we journeyed on to 
this place ; to-morrow, go down the Rhine to Cologne, 
where we shall spend Sunday. 

So our faces are set homeward, and ten days after 



180 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 

you get this you wdll get us, if tlie Siberia goes well. 
AVe have not seen any one we know since we left 
Venice, but all around us the papers tell of multi- 
tudes of our countrATuen haATJig their good time. I 
wonder whether they all enjoy it as much as I do. 
Sometimes, especially when 1 read home papers (and 
I thank you for those you sent me last), I grow 
conscience-stricken and restless, and want to be at 
work ; then I make up my mind to work all the harder 
when I reach home, and thus dismiss the anxiety and 
go on my easy way. 

I hear that father and mother will stay another 
year in Hancock Street. ... 1 should think it is the 
best plan, and we will still climb the hill to see them. 
I shall be glad enough to see you as we draw up at 
East Boston. My brotherly love to M. 

A^ectionately, Phillips. 



ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 

1877. 

London, Jidy 4, 1877. 

Dear Father, — Hiirrali for tlie Fourth of July ! 
William has gone for a day or two by himself on a 
trip to see cathedrals, and I have no doubt is enjoying 
everything between here and Dui'ham. I think he 
will be back to-night, and then we shall keep together 
for the rest of the time. Since we arrived and came 
to London, we have been very busy. William has 
been doing the sights, and I have been about with him 
most of the time. Last Saturday we went down to 
Salisbury and spent a delightfid Sunday in that quiet, 
little cathedral town. In the afternoon we drove out 
to Stonehenge, which is, I think, the best thing to see 
in England. It is so old that it would puzzle the 
Historical Society itself. 

I left William there and came back to London early 
Monday morning to go and lunch with some parsons. 
Indeed, I have been parsoning a good deal of the 
time. We are to dine with Dean Stanley on Saturday 
evening, and I am to preach for him in the Abbey on 
Simday morning. This evening I am to dine with 
Mr. Pierrepont, the American minister. I suppose 
General Grant will be there. What a time he has 
been ha vino- here. 

. . . To-day I have been at Convocation, or sort of 
General Convention of the Diocese of Canterbury, 



182 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 

though they are wholly clergymen, no laymen. To-day 
they have been discussing confession, and ended in a 
vote by a large majority on the Protestant side. 

Friday night we have an order for the House of 
Lords and House of Commons. So you see we are 
having a good, busy time. Monday morning we leave 
for the Continent and then our real traveling begins. 
I hope that you are getting better and better all the 
time. Do not forget that you and mother are to come 
and spend two weeks with me at 175 Marlboro' Street. 
My kindest love to her and the aunts. 

Affectionately, P. 

Old Bible Hotel, Amsterdam, 
Sunday, July 15, 1877. 

Deak Mothek, — I want you to understand that 
you must answer this letter yourself, with your own 
hand. I think it must be ten years since you have 
written me a regular letter, hardly since I was in 
Amsterdam before, so remember ! 

They call this hotel the Old Bible Hotel because the 
first Dutch Bible was printed in this house some two 
hmidred years ago, and now we are lodged here, yes- 
terday and to-day. This morning we went to a Dutch 
church about six hundred years old and heard some 
awful singing and a very earnest sermon, of which we 
did not understand a word. This afternoon we went 
into the comitry to a place called Zaandam, and saw 
all sorts of queer sights among the country people. 
On the whole, our first week on the Continent has 
gone first-rate, and we shall spend this week entirely 
in Holland, bringing up at Cologne on Saturday night. 
We are both well and are having a good time. In 
England all went nicely. I saw a good many people 



LUCERNE. 183 

in London, and tliey were pleasant and civil. General 
Grant was the great sensation. I dined with him on 
the 4th of July at the American minister's. He did 
not say much, but was simple and dignified. We saw 
a gTcat deal of Dean Stanley, who is very pleasant. 

I am so glad to hear how well father is, and that 
the summer goes so happily with you all. Our time 
is one third up, and it will not be long before we are 
talkino- of home aoain. A letter from James tells me 
that I am a Doctor of Divinity at Harvard. I am 
very sensible of the honor, but I hope people will not 
begin to call me by the title. My best love to father 
and the aimts, and I am forever 

Yom* affectionate son, Phillips. 

Lucerne, Sunday, August 12, 1877. 

Deae ^Lvry,1— Now I will tell you all about it. I 
dare say William has written yoii since we arrived at 
Liverpool, but perhaps he has not told you anything 
about where we have been, or what we have been do- 
ing. I must go back to the steamer, where there were 
a great many pleasant people. We sailed along as 
quietly as if we were paddling on this quiet lake of 
Lucerne, the sea bag hardly wiggle-waggled on the 
wall. Everybody came to dinner, and the tables were 
dreadfully crowded. On the whole, it was n't much of 
a voyage, quiet, dull, and respectable. We probably 
shall get something livelier going back, when the Sep- 
tember sea will thi'ow up its heels and make some sort 
of rumpus. 

Then we came to England, where, if it had not been 
for General Grant, we shoidd have been of some con- 
sequence, but they were all taken up -^dth him, and 
looked at us as if they wondered what we had come for. 

^ A sister-in-law. 



184 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 

And we went about among tliem as if we liad as good 
a right as they had, because our great-great-great- 
grandfathers came from there. Their country looked 
beautiful, and London never seemed fuller of people, 
and was pretty hot. It is terrible to think how many 
times we have been sizzling with heat and shivering 
with cold since we left Xew York. I feel hke one of 
the pieces of meat which w^e have had served up at 
our many dining-places, which have evidently been 
heated over and then cooled down again a dozen times 
for different travelers who came. However, it is a 
pretty healthy process, and we are getting as tough as 
some of the pieces of meat. Well, that is w^hat we 
did in London. 

Then we crossed over to the Continent and so came 
to the Belgians and Hollanders. The country up 
there was damp and interesting. It was curious to 
see how hard they have worked to save it from the sea, 
and you wonder why they wanted to save it. The 
men looked wooden-headed and the women golden- 
headed, not as to their hair, but they wear gold blind- 
ers, like very swell horses, which make them look very 
funny, and compel you to go on the other side of the 
street when you meet a first-rate a la girl. But they 
were a dear old people, and I can hear their wooden 
shoes clattering about the Amsterdam pavements 
now. I have no doubt they wdll go on growing up 
(those of them who don't fall into the canals and get 
drowned in early youth), generation after generation, 
for ages to come, and thinking they have got the best 
country in the world. 

Then came the Ehine, and a little glimj^se of Ger- 
many, and Grothic architecture, and all that sort of 
thing, our romantic period. It was all pretty, and 



STRASBURG. 185 

William kept up a lively life, sight-seeing all day. . . . 
Then came the green Tyrol, running up to the White 
Alps and sending us over from the snow-storm on the 
Stelvio to swelter in Yerona. We put on overcoats 
and wondered whether we had really thirsted for a 
drop of water only two days before. Then came Yen- 
ice, as fascinating and dreamy as it always is, beauti- 
ful hot Florence, bright Milan, then the hills again, 
and now we are in Switzerland. That is all. There 
is a lake outside this fourth-story window that is pret- 
tier than anything in Pomfret, and to-morrow we are 
going over where those clouds are lying, to see the 
beauties of the Bernese mountains. I expect to see 
the Jungfrau wink at William to-morrow evening. 
He is as well as a healthy cricket. Thank you for 
letting him come, and I '11 return him safe. My love 
to the babies, if they have not forgotten me, and I am 
just as usual, Your affectionate P. 

Strasbukg, August 26, 1877. 
Dear Aethite,^ — You were a blessed good boy to 
write me from Bar Harbor. I only received your 
note last night when I came here, and here 's a word 
of answer, though we are so near coming home that it 
hardly seems worth while to write. We have had a 
lovely smnmer, much of it on our old ground. First, 
London and the Dean (I did not see Stopford Brooke 
or Freemantle) ; then the Rhine, Yenice, and Milan 
(but the gallery there was closed, and we did not see 
the Luinis) ; then Zermatt and Chamoimix. All 
these brought back our pleasant days. We roamed 
about and lunched at Bauer's, which stood just as we 
left it opposite St. Moses. It seems as if we had been 

^ His brotlier, Rev. Arthur Brooks, D. D. 



186 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 

there only a week before, in fact just run up to Co- 
negliano and baek again. 

And YOU liave been in tlie old haunts in Mt. De- 
sert. You were cooler than we were in Venice, cer- 
tainly. I have seen no j^arsons from Ajnerica, though 
I heard of T}Tig being about in Switzerland. The 
mmister at Geneva wrote and wanted me to lay the 
corner stone of his new chui^ch, but I wrote him I 
could not, and he asked General Grant, which no 
doubt pleased him a great deal better. . . . 

There has been a terrible summer in America, 
hasn't there? Matters must be in an unsettled 
state and delay the return of j)rosperity sadly. Over 
here, it really seems as if Eussia had got a much 
harder job than anybody di'eamed, and one perhaps 
too hard for her to accomplish. Nothing but Glad- 
stone, and the poj)ular feeling which he excited and 
expressed, has kept England neutral. 

I wonder if you are back in New York and at work 
again. Look out for the Scythia on Tuesday, the 
18th, when we arrive under the care of Captain 
Hains. I shall feel by and by as if I could not cross 
the ocean except with him. Give my best love to 
Lizzie, and tell her I count on her and you to be my 
first visitors in the new house. We will have lots to 
talk about. To-morrow we start from Paris, and a 
week from next Saturday, ho for New York ! 

Always affectionately, P. 



IN PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND 

IRELAND, 

1880. 

Hotel du Louvke, Paris, July 7, 1880. 

Deak William, — You know tliis place. The 
Louvre is just opposite, the Palais Royal is just be- 
hind, and you and I were here in 1877. You see we 
have not been quite able to keep to our plan of not 
going out of the United Kingdom. I have to be in 
London, or rather at Windsor, next Sunday, to make 
a few remarks to the Queen, so we ran over here for 
the week between. It looks just as it used to. The 
Venus of Milo is over there in the round hall, with 
the red curtains behind her, and the Titians, Murillos, 
and Raphaels are upstairs. The cabs go whirling over 
the asphalt, just as they used to when you and I were 
in them. It is very jolly and pretty, and I wish that 
you were here. Everything in London was very good. 
The Dean was all civility. He gave us his dinner 
party, and Farrar and others were there ; and we went 
to the great Bradlaugh debate in the House of Com- 
mons, and stayed until it broke up at two o'clock 
in the morning. We went also to Lambeth, and saw 
the Archbishop, but did not lunch with him. The 
pictures in Trafalgar Square were just as fine as 
ever, and I bought some Waukenphasts, and preached 
in the Abbey on the 4th of July evening. Farrar 
preached in the morning, and beat me on Yankee 



188 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND. 

Doodle ! Tell Mary I shall write her from tlie Higli- 
lands. My love to her, the babies, and all Nahant. 
Affectionately, P. 

Steamship Columba, July 29, 1880. 

Dear William, — I am on a steamboat between 
Oban and Glasgow on the coast of Scotland. John 
is up on deck somewhere, and the scenery outside has 
groAvn a little tame, so I take this chance to tell you 
that we are well, and the Scotch trip, which is draw- 
ing near its end, has been a great success, just as the 
Dutch, the Tyrolese, and the Swiss tvyp were three 
years ago. 

We left London on the 12th of July ; the day after I 
wrote a beautiful letter to Mary from Windsor Castle, 
and went to Edinburgh, where we saw many pretty 
sights, and quite a number of interesting people. Dean 
Stanley had furnished us with introductions, and every- 
body was very civil. We stayed there three days, 
and then went to St. Andrews, where we saw the great 
ruined cathedral, and some more agreeable people con- 
nected wdth the university there. We spent a queer 
night at an old castle, where some of Dean Stan- 
ley's relations live, and all was very nice and funny. 
Then we struck north, and have been wandering about 
the Highlands and the Island of Skye for the last ten 
days. First-rate weather, lots of queer adventures, and 
all sorts of ridiculous stopping-places, with superb 
scenery everywhere, made it a delightful journey. 
Now our faces are turned homeward. A day upon 
the Lowland lakes, a day in Glasgow, a week among 
the English lakes, a Sunday, August 8, at Chester, 
three days in Ireland, the Germanic at Queenstown 
on the 13th, New York some time on Saturday, the 



WELLS. 189 

21st; then Nahant, Boston, the new house, and ser- 
mons. . . . 

I received Mary's letter last week, and consider it 
an answer to the epistle from Windsor. Tell her I 
thank her for it. Good-by. Affectionately, P. 

Wells, August 5, 1880. 

My dear Mary, — Thank you for your letter, 
which was very good to get. We are too near 
home (for we sail a week from to-morrow) for me to 
write you a great long answer, but it just occurs to me 
that I may reach Boston at some untimely hour, and 
want to get into my house, while you and William are 
comfortably sleej^ing at Nahant. So will you ask him, 
about the time we are expected, to leave the house 
keys at the Brimsmck, directed to me, and I can get 
them there. I will thank you when I see you. 

We have had a beautiful time. It has always 
rained except just where we were, and everybody has 
seemed to go out of his, her, or its way to make us 
happy. Now we are getting a few days down here 
among the southern towns. We have just come back 
from Glastonbury, which was very pretty, and I am 
writing to you in a queer little mahogany coffee-room. 
John is beside me, writing an immense letter to his 
wife, which is a thing that all my traveling com- 
panions have done in their several turns. At the other 
end of the table, an old gentleman with a bald head 
is studying a railway time-table, and his wife, who is 
very ugly, is asleep in an armchair in the southeast 
corner. At the northeast corner of the room, a man 
is eating his supper of fried sole and boiled eggs. The 
old gentleman has just called for a glass of " brown 
brandy and soda water," and he seems to think it will 



190 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND, 

taste good. There is a row in tlie hall because an 
omnibus has just arrived from the station with some 
more guests, and the landlady is running about like an 
over-busy hen. That is about all that seems to be 
going on to-night in Wells. The old gentleman, who 
seems to be the liveliest member of the party, has got 
his drink, and is ordering a boiled sole for his break- 
fast at half past eight to-morrow morning. Now Wells 
is perfectly quiet. Not a sound. . . . 

Ever yours affectionately (if you don't forget about 
the keys), P. 



A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

1882-1883. 

Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882. 

Dear Johnny,^ — We have had a wonderful pas- 
sage, and here we are just getting ready to see Fastnet 
light this afternoon. Does n't that bring back two 
years ago, and all the long dreary day between Queens- 
town and Liverpool? I hope that we shall have a 
more cheerful experience to-morrow. Dr. John Hall 
is aboard, and Dr. Lorimer, and Lawrence Barrett, and 
T. B. Aldrich, and four hundred and fifty more ; and 
we have had a bright, sunny, happy time. McVickar 
and James and I and Richardson and John Ropes 
make up a sort of party who sit together at the cabin 
table, and smoke together in one corner of the deck, 
and talk about whatever chooses to turn up. 

And so the year of wandering has begun. It is not 
easy yet to realize that it is more than a mere summer's 
journey, but every now and then it comes over me 
that the gap is to be so great that the future, if there 
is any, will certainly be something different in some 
way from the past. I don't regret that, for pleasant 
as all these past years have been, they don't look very 
satisfactory as one reviews them ; and although I am 
inclined to put a higher value on their results than 
anybody else would be likely to do, they have not cer- 
tainly accomplished much. I should like to think that 
the years that remain, when I get home, would be 

1 His brother, Rev. John C. Brooks. 



192 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

more useful. There is surely coming, and it has partly 
come, a better Christian Day than any that we or 
our fathers for many generations have seen. One 
would like to feel before he dies that he had made 
some little bit of contribution to it. 

Well, well, all that is far away ; and here come the 
stewards rattling the plates and getting ready for an 
immediate lunch, — soup and cold meat and prunes 
and baked apples ; that is the next step in this small 
floating world, and the future of Christianity does not 
interest any of them at this moment. 

I wonder what is going on at home. Your Marion 
home must be almost done. I hope with all my heart 
you and yours may be very happy there in secula 
seculorum. Think of me sometimes, and when you 
tMnk, write. My love to Hattie and the babies. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882. 

Dear William, — We reached Queenstown last 
night, and I wish you were here this morning. I 
would tell you what a pleasant voyage we had, since 
you left us a week ago this morning ; what a splendid 
great ship this is, and how McYickar and I have rat- 
tled round in our little stateroom. I preached last 
Sunday, and we had an entertainment last night for 
the Liverpool Seamen's Home. I presided, and Law- 
rence Barrett read " Horatius," and girls and boys 
sang songs. " William," our old steward of the Scy- 
thia, is on this boat, and waits on James. The Cap- 
tain never speaks to anybody ; we have four hundred 
and fifty passengers, are awfully over-crowded, and 
have to dine in two batches. It is all delightful and 
confused, and as funny as an ocean voyage always is. 



BRUSSELS. 193 

But you are not here, so I will not try to tell you all 
this, but we have really had a most remarkable voyage. 

I think we are likely next week to turn our steps 
southward and spend the summer in southern France 
and northern Italy, with perhaps a run into ^ northern 
Spain. Richardson will probably join us there, and 
architecture be the main interest of the tour. But art, 
life, and scenery shall not be forgotten. You shall 
hear all about it. 

Did Gertie get the list of passengers I sent her? 
I thought she woidd see a good many names that she 
knew, and would be interested in knowing who my 
companions were. James has just passed by, pacing 
the deck with jocund tread, and sends his love. 

It was good of you and Mary to come and see us 
off. I think you are both very good to me all the 
time, and to think of your goodness will be one of my 
gTeatest joys this long year. P. 

Hotel Bellevfe, Brussels, July 9, 1882. 
My dear William, — Do you remember pretty 
Brussels ? And this comfortable hotel and St. Gudule 
and the nice time we had here five years ago ? Well, 
here we are again, James and McVickar and I, and I 
will tell you how we got here. We landed after a most 
wonderful passage from the Servia on Thursday even- 
ing, the 29th of Jime. The next morning we left 
Liverpool, and James and I spent the night at the 
Peacock Inn at Rowsley, where we went to see Chats- 
worth and Haddon Hall. It was the most delisfhtful 
English afternoon. Saturday morning we took a 
train for Lincoln, and saw the big cathedral, which 
you know. That was good, too, and James seemed to 
enjoy it very much. In the afternoon we drove to 



194 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Boston, where we saw the Vicar, who insisted that we 
should remain for Sunday. We declined his in^dtar 
tion to the ^dcarage and stayed at the Peacock Inn. 

It is a very neat and pretty town, as dull as death, 
with nothing but the St. Botolph Church to give it 
distinction. On Sunday morning James read the 
Lessons in the big church and I preached. It was a 
pleasant sort of experience. John's ^dsit of two years 
ago was constantly referred to, and seems to have be- 
come historic in the town. The Vicar is a very pleas- 
ant old gentleman and hospitable as he can be. 

From there we went to Peterborough, and on Mon- 
day saw Ely and a good deal of Cambridge, and finally 
brought up at London on Monday night. We went 
to one or two hotels about Trafalgar Square, but they 
were crowded, and at last we brought up at the old 
door of the Westminster Palace Hotel, where they 
took us in, and it was like a bit of the old times. 

Here we stayed three days. One night we went to 
the House of Commons. Of course I went into the 
Abbey and saw the Dean's grave, and I called at the 
old deanery, but the new Dean was out. Farrar came 
to see me and asked me to preach. I saw Lady Frances 
Baillie, and we had much talk about Dean Stanley. 
Then we went out to see Burne Jones the artist, and 
again to see William Morris the poet, at his factory 
at Merton Abbey, where he makes his beautiful things. 
These, with some sights of London, took up our time. 
McVickar, who had been to see his sister, joined us 
again in London, and here we also met Richardson, 
and arranged to go with him to southern France and 
Spain. Think of us there when you get tliis. 

On Friday, James, McVickar, and I crossed from 
Dover to Ostend, and yesterday we went to Louvain, 



PARIS. 195 

where McYickar had to see about some bells for Holy 
Trinity. There is a bright and busy ten days since 
we landed. How are you all ? I tried to picture you 
at Andover this Sunday afternoon, with the aunts tak- 
ing care of you. Oh, how I wdsh you and Mary were 
here, and coidd go down with us to hear the Vesper 
music at St. Gudide. It is all very pleasant and will 
last for six weeks more, and then for Germany, and 
something rather more like work. It is hard to real- 
ize that a year and more must come before I see you 
all. God keep you. My best love to Mary and the 
children. Affectionately, P. 

Hotel de L'EaiprRE, Paris, July 14, 1882. 

My dear Gertie, — I was very much pleased to get 
your letter, and think it was very nice indeed in you 
to write. It was the first letter I received, and I read 
it as I was sitting in the vestibide of the House of 
Commons in London, waiting for the doors to open, 
to let us go in and hear the great men make their 
speeches. Since then we have traveled on and on, 
and now are in great Paris. It is all excitement here, 
because this is the great Fete Day, just like the 4th 
of July in Boston. Years and years ago, the old 
prison of the Bastile was taken, and the prisoners 
were released on the 14th of Jidy. Susie will tell you 
all about it. The streets to-day are full of flying 
flags, and there are bands of music going all about 
town, and hosts of soldiers marching. This evening, 
the city is going to be illmninated, and there will be 
fireworks everywhere. And it is all as pretty as 
pretty can be. Don't you wish that you were here ? 
Some day you and I will come. The funny thing is 
that the people here speak French. The little chil- 



196 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

dren about the streets speak it, just as well as you 
speak Engiisli. Tlie boys and girls are very queer. 
Tbe common little boys wear blue blouses, and the 
little girls wear small white night - caps all the time. 
It is bright, and sunshiny, and delightful. 

I am glad you have had such a nice time in New 
York, and that you saw Central Park and the Ele- 
vated Railroad. Now I am glad you are having such 
a good time at Andover. Go and see the beautiful 
pig, and write me a letter and tell me how he looks. 
Get your map and find Bayonne, down in the south- 
west corner of France. We shall be somewhere 
about there when you get this letter. 

Good-by, and don't forget your affectionate uncle 

Phillips. 

NiMES, France, July 23, 1882. 

Dear William, — I am afraid that a little letter 
which I wrote from Paris must do duty, and fill the 
gap between my last to you and this. After we left 
Paris, we traveled somewhat rapidly through France 
until we reached this place. What we saw specially 
was a group of churches in Auvergne, in and about 
Clermont, in which Richardson is especially inter- 
ested, and which indeed give the key to a great deal 
that is in Trinity. They are very curious, and I am 
glad to have seen them. Besides, we saw one or two 
funny little French watering-places and some fine 
scenery, finer than anything which I had supposed 
there was in France. We are spending a quiet Smiday 
here, and next week shall very possibly start for 
Spain, where we may spend a few weeks, but our 
plans are uncertain. Richardson and his young friend 
Jacques are still with us. 



GENOA. 197 

I have heard little from home, but am thankful to 
know that all goes well. There were a few Ihies on 
the outside of a forwarded letter, which reached me 
here, in which you told me that Arthur and Lizzie 
sailed on the 11th. They must be now in Europe. I 
hope they will let me know their whereabouts, and 
that I may see them before they go home. It seems 
very strange that we should all be in Europe, and not 
know anything about each other's ways. Allen writes 
me about the church, which seems to be getting on 
well. 

I wish you were here, but do write me all about 
everything. My love to all. P. 

Genoa, July 30, 1882. 

Dear William, — ... You do not know what a 
lovely Sunday this is here. The sea breeze is blowing, 
the palaces are shining, the people are chattering, 
the sky is a delicious blue, and you, if you were only 
here, would add another picture to your gallery which 
would be worth keeping all your life. Since last Sun- 
day we have strolled through southern France, seen 
Provence with its wealth of old Roman remains, and 
sailed, with the loveliest passage, across from Mar- 
seilles to this delightful town. To-morrow, we start 
by steamer for Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. North- 
ern Italy will have the next three weeks, — until 
James leaves us for home, and the whole party goes 
to pieces. We have had some hot weather, but no- 
thing oppressive, — nothing like what I fear you have 
had at home. 

We are evidently going to have a troubled year in 
Europe, and just at present it cannot be nice to go to 
India. It seems most doubtful what will be the end, 



198 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

especially if, as now seems likely, tlie religious ques- 
tion gets mixed up with it, and a Moliammedan sacred 
war is proclaimed. England is sure to come out 
strong. Her action in Egypt must certainly be for 
the advantage of civilization and tlie world. . . . 

Flokexce, August 6, 1882. 

Dear William, — How do you all do this week? 
Dear me, how the weeks go by, and the hot simimer 
slips away ! Since last Smiday we have had a pretty 
sail from Grenoa to Leghorn, a bright day in Pisa, 
a nice three days in Florence, and a visit to Sienna 
and Orvieto. Just think of Or^deto, where we slept 
Friday night, within two hours and a half of Eome 
itseK! 

Do you remember Florence ? There is a cathedral 
here, a Baptistery, a Campanile, and there are Donatel- 
los, Andrea del Sartos, and Lucca della Robbias ; and 
they all look just the same as they did five years ago. It 
is not quite so hot as when we were here last, but it is 
the same bright, hapj)y-looking place, and the same 
man sells lemonade under the shadow of the loggia. 
To-morrow morning we are off for Bologna, Ravenna, 
and then Venice. Think of us on Sunday the 20th, 
at Milan, and Sunday the 27th, at Paris. Our party 
has held together beautifully, and there has been lots 
of fun. I shall meet Arthur and Lizzie for a while 
after the 1st of September. I heard from John yes- 
terday, who seems delighted with Marion and his 
hoiise. . . . 

My next prospect is Germany, and I am counting 
much on it. 



VENICE. 199 

Venice, August 13, 1882. 

Dear Gertie, — When the little children in Venice 
want to take a bath, they just go clown to the front 
steps of the house and junip off, and swim about in 
the street. Yesterday I saw a nurse standing* on the 
front steps, holding one end of a string, and the other 
end was tied to a little fellow who was swimming up 
the street. When he went too far, the nurse pulled 
in the string, and got her baby home again. Then I 
met another youngster, swdmming in the street, whose 
mother had tied him to a post by the side of the door, 
so that when he tried to swim away to see another boy, 
who was tied to another door post up the street, he 
could n't, and they had to sing out to one another over 
the water. 

Is not this a queer city ? You are always in danger 
of running over some of the people and drowning them, 
for you go about in a boat, instead of a carriage, and 
use an oar, instead of a horse. But it is ever so jDretty, 
and the people, especially the children, are very bright, 
and gay, and handsome. When you are sitting in 
your room at night, you hear some music imder your 
window, and look out, and there is a boat with a 
man with a fiddle, and a woman with a voice, and 
they are serenading you. To be sure, they want some 
money when they are done, for everybody begs here, 
but they do it very prettily and are full of fun. 

Tell Susie I did not see the Queen this time. She 
was out of town. But ever so many noblemen and 
princes have sent to know how Toody was, and how 
she looked, and I have sent them all her love. 

There must be lots of pleasant things to do at An- 
dover, and I think you must have had a beautiful siun- 
mer there. Pretty soon, now, you will go back to 



200 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Boston. Do go into my house when you get there, 
and see if the doll and her baby are well and happy 
(but do not carry them off) ; and make the music box 
play a tune, and remember your affectionate uncle 

Phillips. 

Chioggia, August 16, 1882. 

Deae Mary, — Did you ever come to Chioggia? 
If you ever did, you are not likely to have forgotten 
it, for it is the queerest, dearest little place in the 
world. Perhaps some time when you have been at 
Venice, you have taken the steamboat early in the 
morning, and run down here and spent the day, which 
is what Mr. McYickar and I have done to-day. We 
left James just dressed and ready for his breakfast, 
meaning to have a beautiful day in Venice ; he pre- 
ferred that to Chioggia, and we shall meet again to- 
night when we get back to dinner. You have no idea 
how well he is, and how he wanders around in gondo- 
las like a Doge, and how good it has been to have him 
here all these weeks. But about Chioggia. 

It is an old, old island, two hours from Venice, 
where the people fish for a living, and hardly anybody 
who once gets born on the island ever goes away. 
The harbor now is full of fishing-boats, with sails of 
red, blue, and green, with pious pictures all over them, 
and picturesque fishermen dropping queer nets over 
the sides. The old piazza in front of the tavern where 
we have been eating our coUazione is full of men un- 
snarling their nets and spreading them out to dry. 
Picturesque children are begging around the door; 
and a little brown rascal, with nothing on but a pair 
of bathing trousers, is standing on his head for a cent. 
The gar^on has just got mad and thrown one of the 



MILAN. 201 

cafe chairs into the midst of them and scattered the 
clamorous multitude, who are laughing at him from 
a safe distance. 

Up the street there is a jolly old church, and two 
funny little old lions are carved on the bridge, which 
crosses the canal just opposite. It is as pretty as a 
picture, — prettier than most. I hope you saw it the 
last time you were in Venice. If not, you must be 
sure to come here next time. The only trouble is that 
you have to stay six hours, when three is quite enough ; 
but tliis gives me the chance for which I have been 
looking, to thank you for your letter, which was very 
good indeed to get. It came from Mt. Desert, which 
is not altogether just like Venice, but is something 
made out of land and water, at any rate. 

I like to tliink of you all at Andover, where I am 
sure you have had a good, hajDpy summer. I hope 
when you get back to dear old Boston, you will be 
good enough to miss me dreadfully. I expect to be 
full of miserableness when you get this, week after 
next, which will be the time when our pleasant sum- 
mer party is breaking up and I shall be beginning my 
solitary winter. Think of me then, and how good it 
always used to be to get back in the autmnn and 
start the winter life again. I wonder if those times 
will ever come back again just so. God knows ! 

Let me hear often. Most affectionately, P. 

Hotel Continental, Milan, August 20, 1882. 

Dear William, — They have a new hotel at Milan, 
so we are not staying where you and I put up ^\q 
years ago. I have thought very much about our visit 
here. Indeed, the whole of the last three weeks has 
reminded me of much that we did together in that 



202 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

pleasant and memorable summer. Florence, Bolog'na, 
Venice, Verona, we liave been to all of tbem, throwing 
in some new j^laces, some of wbicli I liad never seen 
before. I think that I enjoyed the re-seeing of old 
places almost, if not quite, as much as the discovery 
of new ones. The deepening and filling out of old im- 
pressions is very delightful. 

Here our summer party begins to go to pieces. Mr. 
Kichardson and Mr. Jacques start to-morrow morning 
for Marseilles and Spain. James, McVickar, and I 
go northward by Maggiore and the Simplon to Brieg, 
Martigny, Chamounix, Geneva, and Paris. Our jour- 
ney together has been very delightful. Richardson 
is full of intelligence and cultivation in his own art, 
and Jacques is a pleasant fellow, who has made us all 
like him very much. We shall miss them both ex- 
ceedingly. Ahnost no other Americans have come 
in oui* way. I saw Mi*. Augustus Lowell and his 
family in Venice ; and Daniel Dougherty of Phila- 
delphia (whom you and I went once to hear lecture, — ■ 
do you remember ?) turned up in the cathedral the 
other day. 

I thank you for your good letters, and for an 
" Advertiser " which I received yesterday. I ho]3e that 
you will give a newspaper a chance of reaching me 
now and then. ... P. 

Hotel de l'Einepire, Paris, August 28, 1882. 
Dear William, — I have just been to the station 
to see James and McVickar off for England, whence 
James sails on Wednesday for America. You prob- 
ably will see him before you get this letter. He will 
tell you about our last week, how we made a run 
thi'ough Switzerland, had a splendid day on the Sim- 



PAPdS. 203 

plon, crossed tlie Tete Xoire, just as you and I did five 
years ago, found clouds and rain at Chamounix, so 
that we saw nothing there. We just stopped for 
dinner at Geneva and came on to Paris, which we 
reached early Friday morning. After three pleasant 
days together in Paris, they have gone this morning, 
and I am all alone. 

It has been a delightful summer, and now I feel as 
if my work began. A week from to-day I hope to 
reach Berlin, where I shall stay for some time. I am 
very anxious to study, and the prospect of unlimited 
time for reading opens most attractively. I do not 
feel as if it were a waste of time, or mere seK-indul- 
gence, for all my thought about the work which I 
have done for the last twenty years, while it is very 
pleasant to remember, makes it seem very superficial 
and incomplete. I do not know that I can make what 
remains any better, but I am very glad indeed of 
the opportunity'' to try. 

On my way to Germany I shall probably mieet 
Arthur and Lizzie, who are to be in Belgium some 
time this week. ... I shall be glad to get sight of 
them, but it will be very brief, hardly more than a 
hand-shake with each other, I am afraid. We have 
seen ahnost no Americans this summer, until we 
reached Paris. Yesterday, the little American church 
was quite full of them. . . . The Winthrops were at 
Chamounix, and we spent an evening with them. 
Mr. Winthrop seemed to be enjoying his travels. 

Of course, everybody is anxiously watching the 
progress of affairs in Eg}^3t. We know no more about 
it than you do in America. But the general impres- 
sion is that it cannot be a long affair, though the 
English are evidently finding Arabi's people stronger 



204 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

and braver than tliey had expected. But any day 
they may collapse. 

Paris is cold and rainy, not at all the bright and 
sunny thing which you saw when you were here. . . . 
Always affectionately, P. 

Hanover, September 4, 1882. 

Dear William, — The great event of the last week 
was the meeting of the waters. Two Brooks boj^s, 
Arthur and I, came together in the ancient city of 
Cologne. It was Thursday evening when it hap- 
pened ; Arthur had started that morning from May- 
ence and come down the Ehine, the way you know, 
and I had started from Paris, at an awful hour, and 
come all the way through by rail, and we met in the 
hall of the Hotel d'Hollande at about eight o'clock 
P. M. We had a long talk that evening, and the next 
morning we went through the sights of Cologne once 
more. Then we took rail to Aix la Chaj^elle, and I 
saw that again in this new company. I had been 
there once before this year with James and McYickar. 

Then w^e went to Maestricht, where we spent the 
night and saw a queer cave. Then we came to Brus- 
sels, with various experiences on the way, and once 
more I found myself in that very familiar town. 
There we spent a very quiet, pleasant Sunda}'', went 
to church, and talked to each other a great deal. Late 
last night, we bade each other a long, long farewell. 
This morning, I was called at half past four, and have 
come to-day (passing through Cologne again) as far 
as here. , . . 

I have started my journey three or four tunes al- 
ready. Now to-day it really has begun. I have said 
good-by to my last relative, and there is nobody else 



BERLIN. 205 

whom I have any engagement to meet until I land in 
New York a year hence. I am quite alone. To-morrow, 
I am going to Hilclesheim and Magdeburg, and the next 
day to Berlin. There I shall get your letter, which I 
have missed this week, and which will be very wel- 
come indeed. I have thanked you most heartily for 
all your letters, and have got to counting uj^on them 
as regularly as the week comes round. So do not ever 
dare to omit. . . . Everybody now is expecting an 
advance in Egypt, and news of a battle, anyway. 
France is getting very restless. There are stormy 
times coming in Europe. 

I hope you are all well, and happy as kings and 
queens, or happier. My love to everybody. P. 

Hotel du Nord, Berlin, 
September 10, 1882. 

My dear Geetie, — This is Sunday morning. It 
is just after breakfast, about a quarter before nine 
o'clock. In a shop window on this street, I see a 
great big clock every time I go out. It has seven 
faces, and each face tells what time it is in some one 
of the great cities of the world. The one in the middle 
tells what time it is in Berlin, and all around that are 
the other great cities ; it has not got North Ando- 
ver, for that is too small ; it is not one of the great 
cities of the world ; but it has New York. Yester- 
day, as I passed it about one o'clock, I saw that 
it was about five in New York, so I know now 
that it cannot be quite three in North Andover. 
You will not go to church for a good while yet, so 
will have time enough to read my letter twice before 
you go. 

I came here last Wednesday, and am going to stay 



206 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

for some time. In fact, I feel as if I lived in Berlin. 
I send you a picture of the house, with a line drawn 
around my two windows. The children at the door 
are not you and Agnes. I wish they were. 

The childi'en in Paris all wore blouses, and the 
children in Venice did not wear much of anj^ thing. 
Here they all wear satchels. I never saw such chil- 
dren for going to school. The streets are full of them, 
going or coming, all the time. They are queer little 
white-headed blue-eyed things, many of them very 
pretty indeed, but they grow up into dreadful-looking 
men and women. They wear their satchels strapped 
on their backs like soldiers' knapsacks, and when you 
see a schoolf ul of three hundred letting out, it is very 
funny. 

Only two houses up the street lives the Emperor. 
He and his wife are out of town now, or no doubt they 
would send some word to Toody. 

Affectionately your uncle Phillips. 

Hotel du Xoed, Berlin, 
Sunday, September IT, 1882. 

Dear William, — To-day I am going to write and 
tell you what I have been doing in Berlin. I have 
been here for ten days, and have fallen into the most 
regidar way of living, just as if I had been a Ber- 
liner instead of a Bostonian, and had lived all my 
youth in the Unter den Linden instead of in Rowe 
Street. Do you want to know how it goes ? I get up 
in the morning and breakfast at eight o'clock ; then I 
go to my room, which is very bright and pleasant, 
where I have a lot of books and a good table, at 
which I am writing now. Here I stay until eleven 
or twelve, reading and studying, mostly German ; then 



BERLIN. 207 

I go out, see a sight or two, and make calls until 
it is two o'clock. Then I go to Dr. Seidel, my 
teacher, and take a lesson, reading German with 
him for two hours. Then it is dinner-time, for every- 
body in Berlin dines very early. They have North 
Andover fashions here. Four o'clock is the table 
d'hote time at our hotel, and that is rather late. After 
dinner I get about two hours more of reading in my 
room, and when it is dark I go out and call on some- 
body, or find some interesting public place until bed- 
time. Is not that a quiet, regular life ? 

The people here to whom I had letters have been 
kind and civil, so far as they were in town; but 
Berlin ways are very like Boston ways, and the peo- 
ple whom one would like to see are largely at North 
Andover or Nahant. The family of which I have 
seen most is Baron von Bunsen's. He is a son of the 
old Bunsen of whom one hears so much in the last 
generation, is a very cultivated, intelligent gentleman, 
a member of the German Parliament, and an excel- 
lent scholar. He has a charming family, and a de- 
lightful house in the new part of Berlin, which is very 
beautif id. He has given me a good deal of time, going 
to museums, etc., and I have been several times at his 
house. Tuesday I am to dine there and go with them 
to see Schiller's " WiUiam Tell." 

The theatre here is such a different thing from 
what it is with us. It is like a sort of lecture. It 
begins at haK past six and is out before ten. Ladies 
come unattended. Some of them sit and knit. The 
whole thing is as quiet as a sewing-circle, and quite 
free from any of the air of dissipation that belongs 
to theatre-going in America. Of course there are the 
other kind of theatres, but I speak of the best sort. 



208 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

and those which Government maintains. One night I 
went to see " Hamlet " in German. The acting was 
poor, but the audience was interesting. 

Besides the Bunsens I have seen a good deal of Dr. 
Abbott, who has been settled here for forty years, and 
knows Berlin through and through. Last night I 
dined with him at the Zoological Garden, and saw a 
pretty picture of Berlin life. To-morrow I am going 
out to dine at Wansee (which seems to be a sort of 
Berlin Brookline) with Baron von der Heydt, who is 
going to have some of the Court preachers to meet me. 
A good many other people have called on me, and 
talked about German things and people ; so that I see 
all I want to see of folks, and the days are only too 
short. Unfortunately, the university is closed, and 
the professors are all off on vacations, so that I miss 
many men whom I should like to see. Indeed, I fear 
the universities all through Germany meet so late, 
that if I go to India the first of December I shall be 
able to see very little of the professors and to hear 
hardly any lectures. But I am counting much on In- 
dia. Yesterday I met Lord Amthill, the British min- 
ister here, and he offered to give me letters to the 
Earl of Ripon, who is Governor-General of India, and 
to other people there, which will insure me the chance 
to see whatever is going on. What a tremendous vic- 
tory Wolseley has gained this week ! Now Arabi will 
not block my way. 

Do you remember the little statuettes from Tanagra 
which are in our Art Museum? There are a great 
many here and I am much interested in them. Yes- 
terday I found some capital reproductions of them, 
and bought three, which are to be sent you by mail. 
Well, my paper is full, and though I could go on a 



WITTENBERG. 209 

week about Berlin, I stop. I am just going down 
to preach at a little American chapel which is here. 
I shall stay about a week longer, and then travel 
through Germany. ... P. 

Wittenberg, Sunday, September 24, 1882. 

My dear Agnes, — I was glad to get your letter, 
which reached me a few days ago in Berlin. I think 
you were very good indeed to write me, and it was a 
nice letter. . . . 

Did you ever hear of Wittenberg ? You will find 
it on the map, not very far from Berlin. It used to 
be a very famous place when Martin Luther lived 
here, and was preaching his sermons in the church 
whose clock I just now heard strike a quarter of one, 
and was writing his books in the room whose picture 
is at the top of this sheet of paper. I am sure you 
know all about Luther. If not, ask Toody, she 
knows most everything. In the picture, you can see 
Luther's table, the seat in the window where he and 
his wife used to sit and talk, the big stove which he 
had built to warm his cold room, and the bust of him- 
self, which was taken just after he died, and hung up 
here. With the exception of that, everything remains 
just exactly as he left it, over three hundred years ago, 
before your papa, mamma, or amit Susan were born. 

It is a queer old town. Just now, when it was 
twelve o'clock, I heard some music, and looked out 
and found that a band of music was playing psalm 
tunes away up in the air in the tower of the old parish 
church. My window looks out on the market-place, 
where there are two statues, one of Luther, and one 
of Melanchthon, who was a great friend of his. Ger- 
tie will tell you about him. And the houses are 



210 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 

the funniest shape, and have curious mottoes carved 
or painted over their front door. I came here from 
Berlin yesterday, and am going to travel about in 
Germany for a few weeks, and then go back to Berlin 
again. Berlin is very nice. I 's\dsh I could tell you 
about a \dsit which I made, Friday, to one of the 
great public schools, ^diere I saw a thousand boys and 
a thousand girls, and the way they spelt the hard 
words in Grerman would have frightened you to death. 
Tell Susie that I thank her for her beautiful ' little 
letter, and hope she will write me another. You must 
write to me again. Give my best love to everybody, 
and do not forget your affectionate uncle P. 

Fkankfukterhof, Sunday, October 1, 1882. 

Deak William, — ... I arrived here late last 
night, after spending the whole week on a journey 
from Berlin. It was a sort of Luther journey, for I 
went to Eisleben, where he was born and died ; Mans- 
f eld, where he was brought up ; Erfurt, where he 
went to school ; Wittenberg, where he was professor ; 
Eisenach and the Wartburg, where he was a j)risoner ; 
Gotha, Weimar, Halle, where he preached ; and Mar- 
burg, where he had his great disputation with Zmn- 
gli. Here in Frankfort there is a house of his, just 
opposite the Dom, which, by the way, they have fin- 
ished repairing and have re-opened. I went to service 
there this morning, before I went to the little English 
chapel where you and I went five years ago. 

Besides these Luther ^dsits, I had a pleasant day at 
Halle, with Professor Conrad, professor of political 
economy, to whom I had a note of introduction, who 
was very civil, showing me all over the university 
and telling me all that I wanted to know about it and 



HEIDELBERG, 211 

the students. There, too, it Is vacation. None of the 
universities begin until the middle of October, and 
many of them not until the first of November, so that 
I shall not get much of them. I am now on my way 
to Heidelberg, where I hoj^e to stay some time, prob- 
ably two or three weeks, so think of me as there when 
you get this. I enjoyed Berlin exceedingly, and 
foimd the people most courteous and obliging. In- 
deed, I made some friends there, especially the Bun- 
sens, whom I was very sorry to leave. I may possibly 
get back there, but it is not likely. India draws near. 
I received a letter from the Peninsular and Oriental 
Steamship Company last week, saying they had re- 
served a berth for me on the steamer which leaves 
Venice the first day of December. 

All this about myseK. I wonder how it is with you 
all. Are you drowned out ? And is General Butler 
going to be Governor of Massachusetts ? I have had 
no letters this week, but shall get them at Heidelberg. 
Autumn is here and you are all getting back. I wish 
I could look in on Boston for a day. . . . 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Heldelbeeg, OetoTjer 8, 1882. 

Dear William, — I suppose that Bishop Williams 
is preaching to-day at Trinity, so you are all consider- 
ably better off than if your own dear pastor were at 
home. . . . 

It has been a very pleasant week for me, but not 
an eventful one. On Monday I went to Giessen and 
saw the university and one or two of the professors. 
It is one of the smaller universities, but a very in- 
teresting one. Then I went to Worms, which I had 
seen before, but at which I wanted to get another look 



212 A YEAR IX EUROPE AXD IXDIA. 

tliat I mio'lit see some thino's relatino- to Liitlier. 
From there I came to beautiful Heidelbers'. and have 
been here since Tuesday nio'lit. You saw Heidelberg, 
and know something of how beautiful it is. Just now 
the hill on which the castle stands is one mass of 
splendid color : ahnost as bright as anything that one 
sees in our American woods are the trees in this Talley 
of the Xeckar. I have mv German teacher here and 
the use of a library, where I go eyery day, so I am far 
from being idle. Here probably I shall stay through 
this week, and then begin slowly to work back to Ber- 
lin, where I want to get a week or two more before I 
start for the south. 

Egypt looks now as if one might find his way 
through, but there are great difficulties to be over- 
come before the question of its goyemment is settled, 
and all Eiurope is such a tinder-box that a general war 
may be lighted at any moment. Just at jDresent it 
does not seem as if any of the great powers wanted 
much to fight. Certainly Germany does not. The 
general feeling among her ^^eople seems to be a sort of 
dull disappointment with the results of the last war. 
It has not brouo'ht the coimtry either the wealth or 
the freedom that they hoped. Gennany is poor, and 
Bismarck's watchful and jealous eye is on eyerything. 
The people are proud of their splendid army, but they 
feel the drain of it tremendously. . . . 

There will be no war this winter, and I shall go 
to India as quietly as possible in December. You 
must be just about getting up in Boston. Good-mom- 
ino' to you all ! 

Most affectionately, P. 



o 



WURTZBURG. 213 

WuRTZBUKG, October 15, 1882. 

My dear Gertie, — I owe you a letter ; indeed, I 
am afraid that I owe you more than one, but we won't 
be very particular about that. You shall write as 
often as you can, and so will I, and then we will call 
it square. 

You ought to have a great deal more to say than I, 
because Boston is a great deal livelier place than 
Wurtzburg, and besides you have lived in Boston all 
your life, and know lots of people there whom I should 
like to hear about (including Susie), while I have been 
here only since yesterday, and know but one person ; 
and you would not care to hear about him, for he is 
only a stupid old professor. But you would like to go 
down the queer old streets and see the funny houses ; 
and you woidd have liked to see the big church 
crowded with people, that I saw this afternoon, and 
heard them sing as if they would shake all the carved 
and painted saints down off the walls. I wish that 
once before I die I could hear the people sing like 
that in Trinity Church in Boston. But I never shall. 
It was a great day in the church here to-day, because 
it was the thousandth anniversary of the death of the 
man who built the first church here long before you 
were born, and so they had a great procession, and 
went down into the crypt under the church, where he 
is buried, and sung a Te Deum. I wish you had been 
there with me. 

Then there is a tremendous great palace where the 
bishops used to live. . . . Nobody lives there now, be- 
cause bishops are not such great people as they used 
to be ; but you can go through it all, and see the 
splendid rooms, and there is the loveKest old garden 
behind it, with foimtains and statues and beautiful 



214 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

old trees, where the people go and walk about on 
pleasant afternoons, and a band plays. If you and 
I ever spend an afternoon in Wurtzburg, we will go 
there. 

I wonder if you have been at Trinity to-day, and 
who preached, and whether you know the text, and 
whether Sunday-school has begun. 

I am on my way from Heidelberg to Berlin. After 
I have stayed there for a week or two, I shall go to 
Dresden and Prague and Vienna and Venice, and I 
have got a ticket to sail in the Poonah from Venice 
for Bombay on the first day of December. It is not 
as pretty a name as the Servia, and the ship is only 
about half as big ; but she is a very good vessel, and 
I have no doubt she will get out there safely before 
Christmas. I wish you would come to Venice and see 
me off, as you did to New York. Good-night and 
pleasant dreams. Give my love to everybody and 
don't forget 

Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 

Hotel du Nokd. Berlin, October 22, 1882. 

Dear William, — Just think of its being four 
months ago yesterday since you saw the Servia sail. 
More than a quarter of my long vacation gone. 
Why, I shall be walking in on you before you know 
it ! And when I hear the report of the first Sunday 
of October at Trinity, and all about Bishop Beckwith's 
long and eloquent sermon, it seems as if I were within 
speaking distance of you all the time. 

I reached here yesterday, after one of the pleasantest 
journeys I have ever made. Now it seems like getting 
home, to come to this familiar Berlin again. The folks 
seem to recognize me upon the streets, and all the 



BERLIN. 215 

swell guards about tlie royal palace looked as if they 
wanted to salute uie, but were not quite sure tbat it 
was right. I spent three days this last week at Leip- 
sic. It is a very curious town, full of business, I be- 
lieve, but apparently given up to music and education. 
The hosts of students on the streets, and the multi- 
tudes of concerts everywhere, seem to shut out every- 
thing else. I actually went to two concerts myself, 
one of them a high Wagner affair, with the most se- 
lect and high-toned musical audience. I thought I 
should be glad to see what it was like, and I was sur- 
prised to find that I rather liked it. I saw one or two 
professors, who were very civil, and showed me all 
there was to see. It is rather a depressing place, I 
think, to one who is conscious of knowing nothing in 
particular, and having only a general smattering of 
a lot of things. Everybody there is a specialist. One 
man is giving himself up to Arabic, another to San- 
skrit, another to cuneiform inscriptions, and another 
to a particular sort of bug. So every man has some 
subject, on which he talks you out of your depth in 
half a minute. It must be a delightful thing to think 
that you know anything, however small, through and 
through. If I were twenty-five years younger, and 
not minister of Trinity Church, I should go to Leip- 
sic and stay there till I knew something, so that no 
scholar in the world could puzzle me. Then I would 
come home and go into general life with that one lit- 
tle corner of omniscience always kept to fall back 
upon when I was reminded in some one of the ways 
(in which I am constantly reminded) of what an igno- 
ramus I am. But it is no use now. And I must go 
on with my basket of broken victuals to the end. 
So you are back in Boston, and the summer was a 



216 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

great success. I am very glad of it. Who knows but 
some day tlie old Andover house may be oiu' summer 
home, as a fixed thing, with a pretty little establish- 
ment that will make summer as domestic and reomlar 
a time as winter. It would certainly not be bad. 
I am glad the children were pleased with the book. 
I thought they might like it. ... 

Affectionately, P. 

HoTEii Du NoRD, Berlin, October 29, 1882. 

Dear William, — How the weeks go, don't they ? 
It seems impossible that seven days have slipped by 
since I wrote you last Sunday. But they have, and 
they have been very pleasant ones here. Delightful 
weather, — a sort of Indian summer, such as we used to 
look for in Boston, and never quite knew whether we 
had it or not. I can hear father and aunt Susan at 
the old table in Rowe Street, debating about it now. 

Berlin is quite different on my return from what it 
was when I left it. The people are back, the streets 
are crowded, and everything is in full blast. The 
university lectures began last Monday, and there are 
no end of them all the time. It is the freest sort 
of institution. The doors of every lecture-room stand 
wide open, and any stranger may go in. This week I 
have been like a college student, going to hear what 
the great men have to say about theology and other 
things. I have German enough now to follow a lec- 
ture quite satisfactorily, and you do not know how I 
enjoy it. Of course I have not taken up any sys- 
tematic course of attendance. My time is too short 
for that. I only roam round and pick up what I can 
and fill it out with reading from the books of the same 
men, a good many of which I have. There are four 



BERLIN. 217 

tliousand other students here m Berlin, so that one 
can go and come in the great university quite as he 
pleases, and be entirely unnoticed. 

A good many people who were away when I was 
here before have come back, so that I have as much 
social life as I want. The Bunsens have gone to Eng- 
land, but Dr. Abbott is here. I go there when I feel 
like it, and always meet pleasant people. Then there 
is a certain Dr. Kaj)p, who used to live in New York, 
and is now a member of Parliament here, who has 
been very civil; Professor Hermann Grimm, who 
wrote the Life of Michael Angelo and other things, 
and one of the university provosts. Dr. Gneist, who 
styles himself on his card " OherverwaltungsgG7'ichts~ 
rath^^ — that 's his title. 

It is very pleasant to see how quietly and sim]3ly 
these scholars live, and what cordial, earnest folks 
they are. I have also seen something of the ministers, 
but I do not think I like them so much as the scholars. 
German religion seems to be eaten up with controversy, 
and is hampered everywhere by its connection with 
the state. There is a certain Pastor Stocke here, at 
whose house I have been, who is the political character 
of the town. . . . He and the rest are doing very good 
work among the poor. 

They have just been having an election for members 
of the Reichstag, or Parliament, which has been very 
interesting to follow in the papers and in the talk of 
the people, though one saw nothing to indicate elec- 
tion day in the streets. 

This week I leave here for good, and go to Dresden, 
where I shall get a week for art. The beautiful gal- 
lery there I have never thoroughly seen. I shall have 
my books too, and do some studying. Then Vienna, 



218 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

where there are splendid pictures also, then Venice 
and India. 

My heart stood still for a minute the other day 
when I opened the paper which you sent me and saw 
" Trinity Church on Fire." When I found that they 
had put it out and that it was only going to cost the 
Corporation -^50, I sang a small Te Deum, and con- 
cluded to go on with my journey. Thank you for all 
your letters. They always tell me just what I want to 
know, and cheer me immensely. . . . 

. . . Think of me on Thanksgiving Day in Venice. 
1 shall think of you and wish that we were all in 
Clarendon Street. My love to M and the chil- 
dren. 

Affectionately, P. 

Hotel du Nord, Bekun, October 30, 1882. 
JoHNis^Y DEAE, — I don't want to break up my life 
in Berlin, as I shall in a few days, without writing to 
you from what has become very like home to me. 
How I wish you were here this morning. First, we 
W^ould have a quiet after-breakfast smoke and talk, 
"ihen we would put on our hats and stroll across the 
street to the imiversity, where there are some forty 
lecture-rooms, a professor hard at work in each of 
them, and the whole thing open to anybody who chooses 
to drop in. We could hear Dillman firing away at 
the Old Testament, Weiss exegesing on St. Luke's 
Gospel, Pfleiderer discoursing on the Philosophy of 
Peligion, or Steinmeyer haranguing on Church His- 
tory. Hengstenberg is dead, and so is Baumgarten- 
Crusius, your friend. There are plenty more of them 
left, and if we grew tired of Berlin to-day, why we 
could run down to Leipsic to-morrow, where the the- 



BERLIN. 219 

ology is ratlier richer tliaii it is here, and where we 
could hear Luthardt and Delitzsch. We should not 
understand all that these men said, but a great deal of 
it would be clear enough, and there would be lots to 
think and talk about when we came out. Then after 
an hour or two of this we would go into the Thiergar- 
ten, the most fascinating park in Europe, and perfectly 
delightfid on these Indian summer days. There we 
woidd wander about and talk some more. We woidd 
come home to a queer dinner at four o'clock, and, 
if you liked, at half past six we could go to the thea- 
tre and see a play of Schiller, or, if you preferred, go 
to see some pleasant people, who are abundant and 
always hospitable in this cheerful, busy town. Then 
we 'd come home and smoke and talk some more ever 
so late. You must come quickly, or we cannot do 
this, because I am starting Wednesday, — bound for 
Dresden, Vienna, and Venice, whence I sail on the 
1st of December. 

It has all been very delightful and wholly different 
from any experience which I have ever had before in 
Europe. I shall remember Berlin and many of the 
people in it with delight. There are hosts of Amer- 
ican students here, but they hide themselves in Ger- 
man families as much as possible, and one sees little 
of them. There is much work being done, and the 
thoroughness of their real scholars makes me feel 
awfidly superficial and ashamed. 

I am delighted to hear how very successful your 
house and your summer have been. I hope that they 
have put you in splendid condition for the winter. 
. . . Another year I shall be there again, and mean- 
while you will tell me all about it, won't you? I 
think the beauty of being here for a while is that it 



220 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

makes the things at home which really are worth 
caring for seem all the more precious. 

Now I am going out to hear a lecture, then I shall 
go into the Gallery for an hour, then take a German 
lesson, and get a little more of this good place before I 
leave it. Think of me often, and be sure I think of 
you. . . . My love to Hattie and the babies. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Hotel Bellevue, Dresden, 

November 5, 1882. 

Dear William, — The scene is changed, and this 
is Dresden, instead of Berlin. I left that big town for 
good on Thursday, and shall not see it again ; but I 
have had a first-rate time there, and shall remember 
it most pleasantly. Dresden is prettier than Berlin, 
and the Sistine Madonna is over there in the Museum, 
so I am enjoying a few days here very much indeed. 
I get a good deal of time for reading my German, and 
am just beginning to get up the books on India, which 
now seems to be drawing very near. 

I have no friends here, except one or two families, 
to whom my Berlin friends introduced me, but that 
does not so much matter for a few days. Robert 
Gushing and his family are staying in this hotel. 
Henry Potter, his wife and three children, are living 
in town. I dined with them last night. This morn- 
ing I preached at the American church, and this 
evening I have promised to preach for the Scotch 
Presbyterians, so it is rather more like Sunday than 
any first day of the week that I have passed for a 
good while. I shall leave here probably Wednesday, 
and after stopping a few days in Prague, shall go to 
Vienna, where I hope to make a considerable stay. 



PRAGUE. 221 

Think of me there when you get this letter. Of course 
you have seen the terrible accounts of the floods on 
the southern side of the Tyrolese mountains. Among 
their smaller mischiefs, they make the access to Ven- 
ice very uncertain, so that I am not quite sure how I 
shall get at my steamer. I shall get there somehow, 
probably by rail from Vienna to Trieste, and thence 
by sea to Venice. 

Your last letter brought things at home up to the 
16th of October. Perry had just preached in Trin- 
ity. Does it not seem strange to think how long 
ago it was that he used to be with Dr. Vinton at 
St. Paul's, and that we are the same fellows as the 
boys who used to listen to him there ? The minister 
of the American church, for whom I preached to-day, 
is a Mr. Caskey, who succeeded Arthur in Williams- 
port. What a time we would have before the Ma- 
donna to-morrow, if you were only here ; the concerts 
and operas in Dresden are tremendous. No matter ; 
some day when I get back we will go to the Art Mu- 
seum and the Music Hall together, and make believe 
that it is pretty little Dresden. . . . 

Prague, November 12, 1882. 
. . . You never saw Prague, did you ? You must 
some day. It is immensely curious and picturesque. 
It is Austrian, and Austria is poor stuff by the side of 
Germany. Austria really seems to be no nation at 
all, made up as it is of a heap of people and languages, 
which have no association with each other. Germany 
has ideas, and a great notion of her future, and of 
having a mission in the world. All that makes her 
interesting. Austria has nothing of the kind, and her 
petty tyranny is endless. These riots in Vienna are 



222 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

signs of what a suppressed and discontented life her 
people lead. But still she is worth seeing, and for 
two weeks I shall be on her soil. Thanksgiving Day 
I spend in Venice, and the next day the Poonah sails, 
so think of me as you eat your turkey, dining at Dani- 
elis, and direct your letters after you get this, until 
further notice, to the care of Messrs. Lang, Moir & 
Co., Bombay. 

Will you do an errand for me? Will you go into 
Williams's and get two copies of my " Influence of 
Jesus " and send them to some Berlin friends, to 
whom I have promised them ? 



Gkand Hotel, Vienna, November 19, 1882. 
Yery private ! ! 
Dear Gertie, — This letter is an awful secret be- 
tween you and me. If you tell anybody about it, I will 
not speak to you all this winter. And this is what it 
is about. You know Christmas is coming, and I am 
afraid that I shall not get home by that time, and so 
I want you to go and get the Christmas presents for the 
children. The grown people will not get any from me 
this year. But I do not want the children to go with- 
out, so you must find out, in the most secret way, just 
what Agnes and Toodie would most like to have, and 
get it and put it in their stockings on Christmas Eve. 
Then you must ask yourself what you want, but with- 
out letting yourself know about it, and get it too, and 
put it in your own stocking, and be very much sur- 
prised when you find it there. And then you must 
sit down and think about Josephine De Wolf and the 
other baby at Springfield whose name I do not know, 
and consider what they would like, and have it sent 



VIENNA. 223 

to them in time to reach them on Christmas Eve. 
Will you do all this for me ? You can spend five dol- 
lars for each child, and if you show your father this 
letter, he will give you the money out of some of mine 
which he has got. That rather breaks the secret, but 
you will want to considt your father and mother about 
what to get, especially for the Springfield children ; so 
you may tell them about it, but do not dare to let any 
of the children know of it until Christmas time. Then 
you can tell me in your Christmas letter just how you 
have managed about it all. . . . 

This has taken up almost all my letter, and so I 
cannot tell you much about Vienna. Well, there is 
not a great deal to tell. It is an immense great city 
with very splendid houses and beautiful pictures and 
fine shops and handsome people. But I do not think 
the Austrians are nearly as nice as the ugly, honest 
Germans. Do you ? 

Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving Day. If 
you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me, and 
tell him that I am very sorry I could not come this 
year, but I shall be there next year certain ! Give 
my love to all the children. I had a beautiful letter 
from aunt Susan the other day, which I am going to 
answer as soon as it stops raining. Tell her so, if you 
see her. Be a good girl, and do not study too hard, 
and keep our secret. 

Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 

GRAin> Hotel, Vienna, November 22, 1882. 
Dear aunt Susan, — No letter since I left home 
has given me more pleasure than yours which I re- 
ceived a week ago. It took me back into North An- 
dover, and made me feel as if we were all in the little 



224 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

parlor, and the Austrian town which I could see out 
of the window were all a dream. You were very 
good indeed to keep your promise, and I hope I shall 
hear from you more than once again before I drive 
up to the side yard door next autumn. 

. . . We had a small snowstorm here yesterday, 
and to-day the hills around Vienna are all white with 
snow. I wish you could escape the winter, as I mean 
to do, by running down into countries where the only 
trouble about winter weather is the heat. The second 
week in December, when you get this, and when the 
whole of North Andover is shivering with cold, we 
shall be running down the Red Sea and trying to get 
into the shade of anything to keep ourselves cool, and 
looking over the side of the Poonah to see if we can 
see any of Pharaoh's chariot- wheels. 

It is eighteen years since I was in Vienna, on my 
first European journey. Then I was on my way to 
Palestine. One difference between that year abroad 
and this I feel all the time. Then the old home in 
Chauncy Street was still there, and father and mother 
were both waiting to hear what one was doing, and 
one of my pleasures was to write to them and to think 
how I would tell them all about it when I got back. I 
miss all that part of the interest of travel very much 
now. Sometimes it is hard to realize that they are 
not still there, and that I am not to write to them. At 
this distance all that has come since I was here before 
seems like a dream. 

I hope by Christmas that the window in their mem- 
ory will be in the little church. William writes me 
that it is getting on, and I shall be glad to know that 
it is fairly in its place. I hope it will be there for 
years to keep people reminded of them. You must tell 



VENICE. 225 

me how you like it when it is u]3. It seems as if we 
came pretty near losing Trinity Chiircli lately by fire. 
It would have been a pretty hard thing to have to go to 
work and build it all up again. As it is, they seem to 
be having trouble with it in the way of repairs. I 
hope your new church will tempt no incendiaries and 
meet no accidents. 

If I were in Boston I would come up to Andover this 
afternoon. But as I am in Vienna, I can only send 
this letter to tell you I am thinking of you. My best 
love to aunt Sarah and aunt Caroline. 

Your affectionate nephew Phillips. 

Venice, November 26, 1882. 

Dear William, — It is a rainy Sunday in Venice, 
which, as you may imagine, is not a very cheerful 
thing. The gondolas are dripping at the quay out- 
side, and San Giorgio looks dull and dreary through 
the mists. . . . Now that I have come home, and have 
got a fire in my room, spread out my German books, 
and lighted my pipe, everything is cheerful inside, 
however dreary the outside may be. I have just come 
here to get a few quiet days of Venice, before the 
Poonah sails. She is here, lying in the harbor ; and 
I have been on board and looked her over. She is a 
beautiful, great vessel, with a big, broad deck and a 
bright, pleasant cabin, looking as if she might be a 
capital home for three weeks. . . . 

My stateroom is on deck, with air all around it, and 
I have it to myself, so I am counting very much upon 
my voyage. How I wish you were going to take it 
with me I What delightful days and nights we woidd 
have down the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean ! 
The officers of the ship say that at this season the ther- 



226 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

mometer does not go above seventy, even in the Red 
Sea, and tliat there is never any chance of bad 
weather in December between Suez and Bombay. It 
seems to be the very perfection of ship life. . . . 

I had a very good time in Vienna, where I stayed 
about a week. I do not think I like the city much, 
certainly not as well as Berlin. But then I knew 
none of the people, which made a difference. The 
Brimmers were there part of the time, and it was 
pleasant to see them. Also Judge Endicott and his 
family, who were at the hotel all the time I was there. 
I am very sorry Mr. Brimmer could not go to India. 
... I shall go alone now, unless possibly a young 
collegian of this last class at Cambridge, a friend of 
Arthur's, Evert Wendell, shoidd go on the same 
steamer. I saw him in Berlin, and he wants to go and 
has sent to ask his father's leave. 

. . . The Venetians are going to have a great fete 
and concert to-night and to-morrow in the piazza, for 
the benefit of the sufferers by the floods. A month 
ago the whole ground floor of this hotel was three feet 
under water. I wish you would go to India with 
me 

Steamship Poonah, lying at Brindisi, 
Sunday, December 3, 1882. 

Dear William, — ... The Poonah is an old ship, 
rather noisy, not at all fast, and not very clean. But 
she is well arranged, and in good weather must be 
very pleasant. The sail from Venice to Brindisi 
has been cold, rough, and rainy. The Adriatic has 
behaved badly. We could not touch at Ancona, 
which is on the programme, because of the rough 
weather. This Sunday morning is bright, but cold 



IN THE SUEZ CANAL. 227 

and windy ; not a bit of suggestion of the tropics yet. 
In a day or two we shall get it, and I only hope we 
shall not get too much. The people on the Poonah, 
so far, are not very interesting, but they are only a 
few. The best are supposed to come on board here at 
Brindisi, having come by rail from London, so I hope 
when we sail to-morrow morning, we shall find our- 
selves in the midst of that delightful society which 
the voyage to India has always been said to furnish. 
Young Wendell is on board, having turned up at the 
last moment in Venice. He makes bright, pleasant 
company, and we shall probably be together through 
India. 

Thanksgiving Day passed quietly in Venice. I did 
not preach, or even go to church, except to pay a fare- 
well visit to St. Mark's. I dined with the Walleys. 
They are staying in Venice, keeping house in an apart- 
ment, and asked me to dine with them. We had a 
turkey, and did the best we could to keep Thanks- 
giving, and it went off well. . . . 

Think of the Poonah, when you get this, as paddling 
across the Indian Ocean, and wave your hat in that 
direction. I shall see it and wave mine back. A 
happy Christmas to you all. Now I am going on 
shore to see Brindisi. 

Steamship Poonah, in the Suez Canal, 
December 9, 1882. 

Dear Johnny, — You do not know what a queer- 
looking thing this big ditch is, with the long stretches 
of sand reaching out on either side, and the curious 
effects of light everywhere in the distance, and the 
superb blue sky, and our gTcat steamer slowly plodding 
along at about six miles an hour towards the Red Sea. 



228 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

And inside the steamer it is just as queer, a host of 
wild-looking ruffians for sailors, and a lot of English- 
men. It is all very pleasant and foreign. I have 
been up on deck all the morning, looking at the 
strange figures who occasionally appear on the banks, 
watching the steamboats which pass us every now and 
then, and talking with the Englishmen who are men- 
tioned above. I have got a little tired of it all, so I 
thought I would come down into the cabin and send 
you a greeting which I will mail to-night at Suez, and 
which you will get almost, if not quite, in time to wish 
you a Merry Christmas ! 

What are you doing ? Every now and then there 
comes some glimpse of the old life going on at home. 
Sermons and convocations and clubs, and the winter 
season with its work gradually thickening around 
you. . . . 

I wonder who will be up to the mark of honestly 
admiring A. V. G. Allen's remarkable paper in the 
" Princeton Review," and seeing how the change which 
he has described so ably is every whit as important 
and significant as the reformation of three hundred 
years ago. Surely the club and the church ought to 
be proud of the man who wrote the article. 

Have you got some good carols for Christmas, and 
a good text for your Christmas sermon ? I feel al- 
most like writing one myself and asking some Hindoo 
in Bombay to lend me his mosque in which to preach it. 

I hope you went to the December club, and that it 
was a success. I shall hear all about it in India and 
will tell Chunder Sen. We are getting to Ismailia, 
and I must go up on deck and see. Good-by. A 
Merry Christmas and God bless you to you and Hattie 
and the children. Ever affectionately, P. 



SUEZ. 229 

Suez, Sunday Morning-, December 10, 1882. 

Deak William, — We are just tying up to the 
wharf in Suez, and nobody seems to know how long 
we are to stay before we start on our voyage down the 
Red Sea. I will write my Sunday letter at once, and 
tell you that I have come thus far in happiness, health, 
and safety, and in the Poonah. I sent Gertie a postal 
card the other day from Alexandria, which I hope she 
will excuse. I am not in the habit of sending postal 
cards, but there was no other way. We were only 
there for a very short time and all the time we had 
was spent on shore. It was curious to see the results 
of the war so close at hand. The great square of 
Alexandria is all in ruins, and looks like Liberty 
Square in Boston after the great fire. The forts which 
brought on the bombardment are all banged to pieces, 
and the guns are standing on their heads. There 
must have been some wonderful firing on the English- 
men's part. 

Then we sailed over to Port Said, the steamer roll- 
ing about badly in the long swell. There was plenty 
of room at the dinner-table on Thursday. Port Said 
looks as I remember seeing Lawrence look when father 
took us there from grandmother's, one day when we 
were boys. It is an extemporized town of shanties and 
cheap buildings, with everything to sell, which it is 
supposed that uncomfortable and extravagant travelers 
will buy. Only the population does not look like 
Lawrence people. They are brown Egyptians and 
Nubians as black as coals, and a few British soldiers 
with white pith helmets and red coats. 

The sail down the canal has been delightful. The 
air was fresh and bright as spring, yet had the warmth 
of summer in it. The atmosphere was delightful, and 



230 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

though we sometimes ran between high banks of sand, 
which hid everything, most of the time the view was 
made up of long stretches of desert, reaching away to 
distant hills, with effect of light and color on them, all 
which were beautiful. This morning I saw out of my 
stateroom window a glorious sunrise, just such as the 
children of Israel must have seen on their famous trip 
from Egypt into Palestine some years ago. We passed 
yesterday Ismailia, where the British headquarters 
were this autumn, and saw the way they started to 
Tel El Kebir. And there we heard of the verdict in 
Arabi's case, about which nobody seemed to care. 

Now we really start upon our voyage. Up to this 
point has been mere preparation. Here the passengers 
for Australia and Calcutta leave us, and we take on 
board the passengers for Bombay, who have come all 
the way by sea from London. We shall be quite a 
new company. We have lost two or three days by 
having to go through the canal, and shall not be in 
Bombay certainly before the 22d, perhaps not till later. 
I like the ship, the people, the life on board, and all is 
going beautifully. Merry Christmas to you all. . . . 

On the Poonah, December 15, 1882. 
Dear William, — I write my Sunday letter this 
week on Frida}^, because to-night we are to arrive at 
Aden, and there can mail our ej)istles. There will not 
be another chance until we come to Bombay. All 
this week we have been running down the Red Sea. 
The weather has been sultry and oj)pressive ; not j)ar- 
ticularly hot by the thermometer, but such weather as 
makes one want to get in a draft and do nothing. In 
the great cabin, the punkas are hung up, long cloth 
fans, which are fastened to a rod that runs along 



ON THE POONAH. 231 

the ceiling over tlie dining-table ; every meal-time 
they are kept swinging by a long cord, which runs 
through the skjdight, and is attached at the other end 
to a small Mohammedan on deck, who pidls, and pulls, 
and pulls. We could hardly hve without it. This 
morning we were passing Mocha, where the coffee 
comes from, and this afternoon we shall go through 
Bab-el-Mandel. When we are once out into the Indian 
Ocean, the special sultriness of the Red Sea will be 
over, and we shall have a week of charming sailing. 

The ship is very comfortable, but she is old and 
slow. She is four days behind her time, and we shall 
not be at Bombay before Saturday, the 23d, more than 
three weeks from the time we left Venice. But it has 
been very pleasant. There is a miscellaneous and 
interesting company on board. Here is the general 
who led the cavalry charge at Tel El Kebir, and is 
coming back from England after being decorated by 
the Queen. Here is Lord Charles Beresford, who ran 
his boat up under the guns at Alexandria at the time 
of the bombardment, and did wonders of bravery. 
Here is a young Cambridge parson, going out to a 
missionary brotherhood at Delhi. Here are merchants 
of Calcutta and Madras, whom one pumps continually 
for information about India, — Englishmen, all of 
them. At Bombay we shall break up, and I sup- 
pose I shall stay there about a week, and then travel 
by Delhi, Jeyj^ore, Agra, Lucknow, Allahabad, and 
Benares to Calcutta, taking about a month, bringing 
us to Calcutta about the 1st of February. A week 
there, a week's trip to the mountains, and a two weeks' 
journey to Madras and its neighborhood, will bring 
us to Ceylon about the 1st of March ; after a week 
there we sail again, direct for Aden and Suez. So 



232 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

there is our winter. And you can tell about wliere 
we are at any time. . . . 

There is a long gap in letters. The last was yours, 
which reached me just as I went on board at Venice. 
The next will not come until the steamer after ours 
reaches Bombay, but I am sure you are all well and 
happy, and getting ready for Christmas in the old 
cheerful fashion. I shall think of you all that day, as 
I sit sweltering in church at Bombay. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Bombay, Sunday, December 24, 1882. 

Dear William, — In India at last ! And you do 
not know how queer and beautiful it is. I wiU tell 
you about it. On Friday night, at eleven o'clock, the 
slow old Poonah dropped her anchor in the harbor 
opposite the Apollo Bandar, which is the landing- 
place of Bombay. That night we slept on board, but 
by six the next morning we were in a boat and being 
rowed to shore, where we had a jolly good breakfast 
at Watson's Hotel. While we were eating it, two 
gentlemen sent in their cards. One was Mr. George 
A. Kittredge, who is the head of the Tramway Sys- 
tem here. The other gentleman was Mr. Charles 
Lowell, who is a son of the Rev. Dr. Lowell, who used 
to be at St. Mark's School. These two gentlemen 
insisted on taking charge of us during our stay in 
Bombay. Lowell is in the banking business here. 
We were immediately carried to his bungalow, and 
here I write to you. 

Fancy an enormous house, rambling into a series of 
immense rooms, all on one floor, piazzas twenty feet 
deep, immense chambers (in the middle of which 
stand the beds), doors and windows wide open, the 



BOMBAY. 233 

grounds filled with palms, bananas, and all sorts of 
tropical trees, the song o£ birds, the chirp of insects 
everywhere, and a dazzling sun blazing down on the 
Indian Ocean in front. A dozen or more dusky Hin- 
doo servants, barefooted, dressed in white, with bright 
sashes around their waists and bright turbans on their 
heads, are moving about everywhere, as still as cats, 
and with no end of devotion to their little duties. One 
of them seems to have nothing to do but to look after 
me ; he has worked over my limited wardrobe till he 
knows every shirt and collar better than I do myseK. 
He is now brushing my hat for the tweKth time this 
morning. The life is luxurious. Quantities of de- 
lightful fruit, cool lounging-places, luxurious chairs, a 
sumptuous breakfast (or "tiffin," as we call it here), 
and dinner table, and no end of kind attention. I am 
writing in my room on the day before Christmas as if 
it were a rather hot August morning at home. 

Yesterday, we drove about the town and began our 
sight of Indian wonders : Hindoo temples, with their 
squatting ugly idols ; Mahommedan mosques ; bazaars 
thronged with every Eastern race ; splendid English 
buildings where the country is ruled ; a noble univer- 
sity ; Parsee merchants in their shops ; great tanks 
with the devotees bathing in them ; officers' bungalows, 
with the handsome English fellows lounging about ; 
wedding processions, with the bride of six years old 
riding on the richly decorated horse behind the bride- 
groom of ten, surrounded by their friends, and with a 
tumult of horrible music ; markets overrunning with 
strange and delicious fruits ; wretched-looking saints 
chattering gibberish and begging alms, — there is no 
end to the interest and curiosity of it all ! And this 
is dead winter in the tropics. I have out all my thin- 



234 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

nest clothes, and go about witli an umbrella to keep 
off the sun. This morning, we started at haK past six 
for a walk through the sacred part of the native town, 
and now at ten it is too hot to walk any more till sun- 
down. But there are carriages enough, and by and 
by we go to church. I was invited to preach at the 
cathedral, but declined. 

We shall be in and about Bombay for about a 
week. You must not think that we shall suffer from 
the heat. This is the hottest place that we shall visit. 
As soon as we leave here we shall be in the hills, and 
by and by shall see the thermometer at zero. How I 
shall think of you to-morrow ! It is holidays here, and 
our friends have nothing to do but to look after us. 
Banks close for four days ! Good-by, my love to you 
all always. 

Bombay, Tuesday, December 26. 
Do you care to know how we spent Christmas ? I 
will tell you. We arose in the cool of the morning at 
six o'clock. After we had a cup of tea, some fruit and 
bread and butter, the open carriage was at the door, 
and we put on our pith helmets to keep off the sun, 
and drove away. First we went to the Jain hospital 
for animals. The Jains are a curious sect of Hin- 
doos, and one of their ideas is the sacredness of ani- 
mal life. So they have this great hospital, where they 
gather all the sick and wounded animals they can find, 
and cure them if they can, or keep them till they die. 
The broken-legged cows, sick pigeons, mangy dogs, 
and melancholy monkeys are very curious. We stayed 
there a while, and then drove to the Parsee burial- 
place. The Parsees are Persian sun-worshipers, who 
have been settled here for centuries, and are among 



BOMBAY. 235 

the most intelligent and enterprising citizens. Their 
pleasant way of disposing of their dead is to leave a 
body on a high tower, where vultures devoted to that 
business come, and in about an hour consimae all its 
flesh, leaving the bones, which, after four weeks of 
drying in the sun, are tumbled into a common pit, 
where they all crumble together into dust. You see 
the towers with the vultures waiting on top for the 
next arrival, but no one is allowed to enter. 

Then we came home and had our breakfast, after 
which we drove into the town, whence I sent a telegram 
of " Merry Christmas " to you at eleven o'clock. We 
went to the service at the Cathedral, which was very 
good. . . . Then I drove out to the Government House, 
where the Governor, Sir James Fergusson, had invited 
me to lunch. Very pleasant people were there, and 
the whole thing was interesting. The drive out and in, 
about four miles each way, was through the strangest 
population, and in the midst of the queerest sights. 
After my return (I went there alone) we wandered 
about the native bazaars and saw their curious trades. 
At eight o'clock, Mr. Kittredge gave us a sumptuous 
dinner at the BycuUa Club, where with turkey, plum 
pudding, and mince-pies, we made the best which we 
knew how of that end of Christmas Day. After that, 
about ten o'clock, we wandered out into a native fair, 
where we saw their odd performances until late into 
the night, when we drove home along the cool sea- 
shore, and went to bed tired but happy, after the fun- 
niest Christmas Day we ever passed. 

We go off now for a short trip to Karli and Poonah 
to see some curious old Buddhist temples. When we 
get back from there, we start for a long journey to 
Ahmadabad, Jeypore, Delhi, Lahore, Agra, Lucknow, 



236 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Cawnpore, Allahabad, Benares, and Calcutta. This 
will take three weeks or a month. 

I hope you had a happy Christmas. And now a 
happy New Year to you ! Hurrah for 1883 ! I hope 
you will have a splendid watch-meeting and think 
of me. . . . 

Bombay, January 2, 1883. 

Dear William, — A happy New Year to you! 
May 1883 be the happiest of any yet ! I see no reason 
why it should not be. We shall not frisk about quite 
as much as we did thirty years ago, when we were boys. 
For all that, there are soberer joys even for such old 
chaps as you and I, and if the birds fly somewhat more 
sluggishly than of old, why perhaps it wiU be all the 
easier to get the salt on their tails. So a happy New 
Year to you ! The new year broke on me as I was 
driving in a tonga from Deogaon to Nandgaon. A 
tonga is a queer sort of dogcart, drawn by two sharp 
little ponies with a yoke over their necks, as if they 
were oxen ; — you see we have been spending a good 
part of the last week in going up to the hills to see 
the wonderful Buddhist and Braminical caves and 
temples. Sunday we spent in a bungalow on the top 
of a hot hill, out of which two thousand years ago 
these wonderful people hewed these marvelous affairs. 

Think of a structure bigger than Trinity Church, 
with spires, columns, and domes a hundred feet high, 
which is not a structure at all, but is carved out of 
solid rock and hewn into chambers, corridors, court- 
yards, and shrines ; covered, in almost every inch of 
its surface inside and out, with sculptures, some very 
big and stately, some as fine as jewels, and all full of 
the most interesting religious and historical meaning. 



BOMBAY. 237 

Think of that, old fellow ! That is the most splen- 
did of the caves, but there are thirty-five of them, 
all more or less wonderful, and some almost as fine 
as this. We spent Sunday there, and Sunday night 
about ten o'clock (for you do everything you can 
by night to avoid the heat) we took our tongas 
and drove six hours down from Ellora, where the 
caves are, to the railway. On the way, just as we 
were stopping to change ponies, and some half -naked 
Hindoos were howling to each other over their ar- 
rangement, and the Southern Cross was blazing in the 
sky, and the moon struggling up, 1883 came tripping in. 
I thought of you at home, and wondered whether you 
were having a watch-meeting and what you thought of 
the New Year ; then I remembered it was only three 
o'clock in Boston, and that you were just going to 
afternoon church. So I tumbled back into the tonga 
again and we jolted on. 

You see I am getting somewhat at the country. It 
is interesting far beyond anything I expected. Our 
friends, Kittredge and Lowell, have been more kind 
and devoted than you can imagine. No one in a week 
could have seen more, or seen it better, than we. This 
afternoon we leave Bombay and launch out for our- 
selves. We have a capital fellow for a traveling ser- 
vant, a dusky gentleman with a turban and a petti- 
coat, a low-caste Hindoo named Huri. When you get 
this, about the 1st of February, we shall have passed 
through northern India and shall be in Calcutta. In 
a day or two we shall get out of excessive heat, and 
not be troubled with it again until we leave Calcutta 
for southern India. I am splendidly well. My young 
traveling companion is very pleasant. I love you all 
very much, and hope you will remember 

Phillips. 



238 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Bankapub, Tuesday, January 3, 1883. 

Dear Lizzie,^ — Since I wrote you, we have come 
over from Benares, and to-day Lave been making a 
delightful excursion to Buddh-gaya, where, as Sir 
Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily, Gautama sat six 
years under a bo-tree, and thought and thought, until 
at last the Dukha-Satya was opened to him, and Bud- 
dhism began. In these days, when a large part of 
Boston prefers to consider itself Buddhist rather than 
Christian, I consider this pilgrimage to be the duty 
of a minister who preaches to Bostonians, and so this 
morning before sunrise we started for Gaya and the 
red Barabar Hills. 

We had slept in the railway station, which is not 
an uncommon proceeding in the out of the way parts 
of India, where there is no pretense of a hotel, and 
where you do not know anybody to whose bungalow 
you can drive up, as you can to that of almost any 
man to whom you ever bowed in the street. They are 
a most hospitable folk, only when you go to stay with 
them you are expected to bring your own bedding and 
your own servant, which saves them lots of trouble. 
Think of my appearing at your door some afternoon 
with a mattress and Katie. We had to drive ten 
miles in a rattling gharry, and as we went the sun 
rose just as it did on Buddha, in the same landscape 
in the fifth book of the " Light of Asia," which (as 
you see) I have been reading with the greatest in- 
terest. We had to walk the last two miles, because 
the ponies, who must have been Mohammedans, would 
not go any farther. It was a glorious morning, and 
by and by we suddenly turned into an indescriba- 
ble ravine. One tumbled mass of shrines and mon- 
uments, hundreds on hundreds of them, set up for the 

1 A sister in la"S7. 



BANKAPUR. 239 

last two thousand years by pilgrims. In tlie midst, 
two hundred feet liigh, a queer fantastic temple 
(which has been rebuilt again and again) which has 
in it the original Buddha figure of Asoka's time ; a su- 
perb great altar statue, calm as eternity, and on the 
outside covered with gold-leaf, the seat on which the 
Master sat those six long years. The bo-tree has de- 
parted long ago, and the temples were not there when 
he was squatting and meditating, but the landscape was 
the same, and though this is one of the places where 
thousands of pilgrims come from both the Buddhist 
and the Brahmin worlds, the monuments which they 
set up are not as interesting as the red hills on one 
side, and the open plain on the other, which Sakya 
must have seen when he forgot for a moment to gaze 
at the soles of his own feet and looked upon the 
outer world. 

It is a delightful country, this India, and now the 
climate is delightful. The Indian winter is like the 
best of our Indian sununer, and such mornings and 
midnights you never saw. We had two weeks in 
Delhi, because my companion. Evert Wendell, must 
needs pick up the small-pox. It is rather good to 
know one town of a great country so well as I know 
that, and it is on the whole, I suppose, the most inter- 
esting town in India. I think I know every one of 
its superb old tombs by heart. Wendell could not 
have chosen a better place, if he was bound to do 
such a ridiculous thing at all. 

I wished you a happy New Year when the old year 
left us in the midst of a night drive among the hills. 
I hope you felt my wish around the globe, or through 
it, which ever way wishes go. May everything go 
beautifully with you. May you get all you want and 



240 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

nothing wliicli you do not want. It will be bad for 
you, but it will be pleasant. May the new church be 
better even than you expect. May you get any num- 
ber of dry concerts and delightful books. May I come 
and see you flourishing gloriously through it all next 
September. I am not sure just what you want, but, 
whatever it is, may you get it abundantly. Give my 
best love to Arthur, and write me all about what you 
are doing. Affectionately, P. 

Jeypoee, Jamiary 7, 1883. 

My dear Gertie, — I wish you had been here with 
me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time. 
You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at 
six the carriage was at the door, and we had already 
had our breakfast. But in this country you do every- 
thing you can very early, so as to escape the hot sun. 
It is very hot in the middle of the day, but quite cold 
now at night and in the mornings and evenings. Well, 
as we drove into the town (for the bungalow where we 
are staying is just outside), the sun rose and the streets 
were full of light. 

The town is all painted pink, which makes it the 
queerest-looking place you ever saw, and on the outsides 
of the pink houses there are pictures drawn, some of 
them very solemn and some very funny, which makes it 
very pleasant to drive up the street. We drove through 
the street, which was crowded with camels and elephants 
and donkeys, and women wrapped up like bundles, 
and men chattering like monkeys, and monkeys them- 
selves, and naked little children rolling in the dust, 
and playing queer Jeypore games. All the little girls, 
when they get to be about your age, hang jewels in 
their noses, and the women all have their noses look- 



JEYPORE. 241 

ing beautiful in this way. I have got a nose jewel for 
you, which I shall put in when I get home, and also a 
little button for the side of Susie's nose, such as the 
smaller children wear. Think how the girls at school 
will admire you. 

Well, we drove out the other side of the queer pink 
town, and went on toward the old town, which they 
deserted a hundred years ago, when they built this. 
The priest told the rajah, or king, that they ought not 
to live more than a thousand years in one place, and 
so, as the old town was about a thousand years old, 
the king left it; and there it stands about five miles 
off, with only a few beggars and a lot of monkeys for 
inhabitants of its splendid palaces and temples. As 
we drove along toward it, the fields were full of pea- 
cocks and all sorts of bright-winged birds, and out of 
the ponds and streams the crocodiles stuck up their 
lazy heads and looked at us. 

The hills around are full of tigers and hyenas, but 
they do not come down to the town, though I saw a 
cage of them there which had been captured only about 
a month and were very fierce. Poor things ! When 
we came to the entrance of the old town, there was a 
splendid great elephant waiting for us, which the rajah 
had sent. He sent the carriage, too. The elephant 
had his head and trunk beautifidly painted, and 
looked almost as big as Jumbo. He knelt down, and 
we climbed up by a ladder and sat upon his back, and 
then he toiled up the hill. I am afraid he thought 
Americans must be very heavy, and I do not know 
whether he could have carried you. Behind us, as we 
went up the hill, came a man leading a little black 
goat, and when I asked what it was for, they said it 
was for sacrifice. It seems a horrid old goddess has 



242 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 

a temple on the liill, and years ago they used to sac- 
rifice men to her, to make her happy and kind. But 
a merciful rajah stopped that, and made them sacri- 
fice goats instead, and now they give the horrid old 
goddess a goat every morning, and she likes it just 
as well. 

When we got into the old town, it was a perfect 
wilderness of beautiful things, — lakes, temj)les, pal- 
aces, porticos, all sorts of things in marble and fine 
stones, with sacred long-tailed monkeys running over 
all. But I must tell you all about the goddess, and 
the way they cut off the poor goat's little black head, 
and all the rest that I saw, when I get home. Don't 
you wish you had gone with me ? 

Give my love to your father and mother and Agnes 
and Susie. I am dying to know about your Christ- 
mas and the presents. Do not forget your affection- 
ate uncle Phillips. 

Cambridge Mission, Delhi, January 10, 1883. 

Dear Johnny, — A haj)py New Year to you and 

H and both the babies. I received a beautiful 

letter from you in Bombay, which deserves a better 
answer than I am afraid it will get from me before 
dinner is ready. It was full of the spirit of home 
work, and of all those pleasant things to which I shall 
be glad enough to get back by and by, pleasant as it 
is meanwhile to be wandering in these queer places. 

Do you see where I am writing ? On the voyage 
from Aden to Bombay I met a young Church of Eng- 
land missionary, with whom I had a good deal of talk, 
and who asked me, when I came to Delhi, to put up 
with him. So here we are. Three young fellows, all 



DELHI. 243 

graduates of Cambridge, scholars and gentlemen, live 
here together, and give themselves to missionary work. 
They have some first-rate schools, and are just start- 
ing a high-class college. They preach in tlie bazaars, 
and have tbeir mission stations out in the country, 
where they constantly go. I have grown to respect 
them thoroughly. Serious, devoted, self-sacrificing 
fellows they are, rather bigli cburchmen, but thought- 
ful and scholarly, and with all the best broad church 
books upon their shelves. They are jolly, pleasant 
companions as possible, and yesterday I saw a cricket 
match between their school and the Government school 
here, in which one of these parsons played a first-rate 
bat. Under their guidance I have seen very thor- 
oughly this wonderful old city, the great seat of the 
Mogul Empire, excessively rich in the best Moham- 
medan architecture. 

How I wish you would ask me something about the 
Aryans, Davidians, about Brahmins, or Buddhists, or 
Parsees, or Mussulmans, or Jains. I could tell you 
all about them, but perhaps you do not care so much 
as one gets to care here, where the snarly old history 
becomes a little bit untangled, and you get immensely 
interested in the past of this enormous people. One 
goes about picking up all sorts of bits and piecing 
them together. To-day it is a Cambridge missionary. 
Yesterday it was a traveling Calcutta Brahmin. Last 
week it was a Parsee merchant, with whom I got a 
scrap of talk, and all the time there are wonderful 
sights, — Buddhist caves, Jain temples, woods full of 
monkeys and peacocks, rides on elephants, visits to 
the English governors, and, first of all, three or four 
charming days at the Bombay bungalow of Charles 
Lowell. 



244 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

I wish you were here, and we coiild talk it all over, 
and to-morrow night start together for Amritsir and 
Lahore. But you are not, and I am afraid you do 
not feel very much interest in the Punjaub and the 
Sikhs just at present. You will whenever you come 
here. Meanwhile you must be getting your sermon 
ready for the second Sunday after Epiphany. I am 
sure that it will be a good one and wish that I could 
hear it. And by the time you get this, Lent will be 
close upon you, and all those hard questions about 
Confirmation and Lent service will be crowding you. 
, . . God bless you, Johnny. Love to all. 

Delhi, Jannary 14, 1883. 

Dear Willia^i, — I write you a rather unexpected 
letter to-day, for the last week has been different from 

what I looked for. Last Sunday I wrote to G 

from Jeypore. On Simday night we left that place and 
came to Delhi, reaching here on Monday at noon. We 
intended to stay till Thursday, and then go to Lahore. 
But this is what happened : Wendell had not been feel- 
ing very well, and when we arrived, it seemed best that 
we should see a doctor. The doctor at once told him 
that he had the Indian fever, and must go to bed. In 
two days the fever was broken, then it came out that 
behind the fever he had the chicken-pox. Fortunately, 
he is in good hands. On the Poonah was a young mis- 
sionary, an English clergyman, belonging to an estab- 
lishment here known as the Cambridge Mission. He 
kindly insisted that when we came to Delhi we should 
stay with him, and so when Wendell was taken down 
it was at his house. Three of them (bachelors) keep 
house together, and the kindness of them all, under 
these YQTj awkward circumstances, has been most won- 



DELHI. 245 

derfulo I was in their house three days, but when I 
found how things were looking, I insisted on going 
to a hotel close by, for I found one of the ministers 
was giving me his room, and going out every night to 
sleep. So I am at the United Service Hotel, Wendell 
lies at the Mission House, and I am constantly with 
him. . . . 

Delhi is an immensely interesting place, and it is 
not a bad thing to see it thoroughly. It is the old 
centre of Mohammedan power in India. Here the 
Great Mogul ruled for years and years, and the great 
Mosque is one of the wonders of the Mussulman world. 
Here, too, was the centre of the great mutiny in 1857, 
and the town is full of interesting points connected 
with that history. And then the present life, both 
Hindoo and Mohammedan, is vastly interesting. The 
streets are endless pictures. This morning the Jumna 
was full of bathers in the sacred stream. The bazaars 
are crowded with the natives of all parts of India, 
The processions of marriages and burials meet you 
everywhere. The temples with their hideous gods are 
all along the streets, and the fakirs go clinking their 
begging-bowls everywhere. 

At present there is particular excitement because 
the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjaub is here with 
his whole suite. They entered the city yesterday 
morning, with a train of elephants and camels, and all 
the citizens in their best clothes turned out to see them. 
Now they are encamped on a broad field, just below 
the Mission, and they make a most picturesque array. 
For days whole hosts of wretched-looking folk have 
been sweeping the streets, dusting the temples, and 
cleaning up everything in anticipation of the coming 
of the Governor Sahib. 



246 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Later, Sunday Afternoon. 

I preached this morning in the English Church, 
and had the usual English congregation. I am get- 
ting so used to English people in these days that a real 
American would seem a strange sort of creature. The 
English are faithful to their duties here, and their In- 
dian Civil Service ought to be the pattern of the world. 
I wish that we had anything like it in America. The 
trouble about the whole thing is, that the Englishman 
does not really like the Indian and does not aim for 
any real liking from him ; also the Englishman suffers 
so in this terrible Indian climate that he cannot live 
here permanently, and each officer is anxious to get 
through his service, and get his pension and be off to 
England. Such brave and devoted work as our mis- 
sionary hosts are doing must tell, and the English 
rulers are gradually getting the Indians fit for more 
and more self-government. . . . 

Delhi, January 21, 1883. 

Dear William, — Here I am at Delhi for another 
Sunday. . . . The mission work is most nobly, sen- 
sibly and faithfully done here. . . . Yesterday after- 
noon, in the most desolate and degraded part of all 
the town, as I stood with a little crowd under a tree, 
with the hubbub of heathen life around us, with all 
sorts of faces, stupid and bright, hostile, eager, and 
scornful, I heard a native catechist preach the gospel 
in Urdu, of which I could not understand a word, 
and thought there could not be a better missionary 
picture. A group of Sikh soldiers came up, splendid- 
looking fellows, with fine faces, enormous turbans, and 
curled beards, who entered into lively discussion with 
the preacher, and for a time the debate ran very 



DELHI. 247 

high. I could not make out which had the best of it, 
but the catechist seemed to understand himself very 
well. 

The principal point of the Sikhs seemed to be that 
what God made every man, he meant that man to con- 
tinue, so there could be no good reason for changing 
one's religion. But when the preacher asked them 
how the Sikh religion (which is only about two hun- 
dred years old) began, he rather had them. 

Before Wendell's illness thoroughly declared its 
character, I went off for a three days' trip to Lahore 
and Amritsir, which was exceedingly interesting. They 
are in the Sikh country, which is a region quite by it- 
self, with the finest set of men in India and a religion 
of its own. At Amritsir is their great place of wor- 
ship, the Golden Temple, a superb structure, with the 
lower half of most beautiful mosaic and the upper 
half of golden plates, standing in the middle of an 
enormous artificial lake, called the Lake of Immor- 
tality. There is a beautiful white marble bridge con- 
necting the island with the shore. I saw their pic- 
turesque worship one morning, just after sunrise. 
This was a very fine trip. . . . 

The Lieutenant-Governor has been in camp here 
for two weeks. Sir Charles Atchison, to whom I had 
an introduction from Sir Richard Temple through Dr. 
Eliot. Friday morning, a stunning menial in red and 
yellow appeared on a camel at my door, with a note 
saying that he (the Lieutenant-Governor, not the 
menial) and Lady Atchison requested the pleasure 
of my company at dinner. The doctor said it was 
quite safe to go, and so I went. It was great fun. We 
had a swell dinner in a gorgeous tent, with about 
thirty persons, and no end of picturesque servants to 



248 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

wait on us. The Lieutenant-Governor was very pleas- 
ant, and when I left promised me some more letters to 
people in Calcutta. I took his daughter in to dinner, 
and had a nice talk with her. She is a sensible YOung 
Scotch lassie. TeU Dr. Eliot, if you see him, that 
both here and in Bombay I owe very much to his kind 
thoughtf ulne ss . 

I have been preaching again to-day, so that for 
three Sundays I have been on-duty. Of course these 
are purely European congregations. A large part of 
the congregation is soldiers, of whom there is a con- 
siderable force stationed here. I wonder who preaches 
at Trinity? Xo letters have reached me for some 
time, but in a week I shall find some at Benares. 
Then I shall learn about yoiu' winter, and get the bear- 
ings of you almost up to Christmas time. When 
you get this I shall be about in Madras, j^erhaj^s even 
beyond, in Ceylon, with the Indian joiu*ney finished. 

It is the most splendid weather possible now, 
like our best May or early June weather. In the 
mornings it is rather cold, and the natives go about 
with most of their bedclothes wrapped about their 
heads, though their legs are bare, and do not seem to 
mind the cold. By ten or eleven o'clock they are sit- 
tins: in the sun, with almost evervthino^ off of them, 
and burninof themselves a shade or two more brown. 
Their picturesquesness is endlessly interesting. But 
I do wonder what is o-oino- on at home. I know vou 
are all weU and that you wish I were with you. . . . 

Benabes. January 28, 1883. 

My deab !Mary, — ... This is the sacredest place 
in India. There are fi.ve thousand Hindoo temples in 
Benares. . . . You stumble at every stej) on a temple 



BENARES. 249 

with its hideous idol, and if you hear a gentleman 
muttering behind you in the street, he is not abus- 
ing you, but only saying prayers to Vishnu or Siva, 
who has a little shrine somewhere in the back yard 
of the next house. There is one sweet temple to 
their Monkey God, where they keep five hundred 
monkeys. I went to this temple yesterday morning, 
and the little wretches were running over everything, 
and would hardly let you go, wanting you to feed them. 
They are so sacred that if you hurt one of them, 
you would have an awful time. It reminded me of 
nothing so much as your drawing-room after dinner. 

Then I went down to the Ganges, where hundreds 
and hundreds of people were bathing in the sacred 
river. Pilgrims from all over India had come to wash 
their sins away, and were scrubbing themselves, as 
thick as they could stand, for two miles along the bank 
of the stream. It is a beautiful religion, at least in 
this, that it keeps its disciples always washing them- 
selves. . . . 

By and by, we came to a place where, in a little 
hollow by the river's side, a pile of wood was burn- 
ing ; two men were weaving a big piece of cloth to fan 
the flame, and gradually as it burned, you caught 
sight through it of a strange bundle lying in the midst 
of the wood and slowly catching fire. Then you knew 
that it was the funeral pile of some dead Hindoo, who 
had died happy in knowing that he would be burned 
beside the sacred river and that his ashes would be 
mingled with its waters. 

Then came another curious and pathetic sight. 
Close by the side of this burning pile was another all 
prepared, but not yet lighted. Soon I saw a man 
leading a little naked boy some four years old into the 



250 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

water. He washed the little chap all over, then stood 
him up beside the pile of wood ; a priest up above on 
a high altar said some prayers over him, and the man 
gave the little boy a blazing bunch of straw and showed 
him how to stick it into the midst of the wood until 
the whole caught fire. It was a widower showing his 
small son how to set his mother on fire. The little 
fellow seemed scared and cried, and when they let him 
go ran up to some other children, — probably cous- 
ins, — who put his clothes on for him, and then he 
squatted on his heels and quietly watched the flames. 

While this was going on they had brought down the 
body of a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, and 
for it they built another pile of wood close to the water. 
Then they took the body into the stream and bathed 
it for a moment, then brought it out and laid it on the 
wood. The father of the child went into the water, 
and washed himself all over. After he came out the 
priest at the altar chanted a prayer for him. Then he 
went up to an old woman who sold straw, and bought 
a bundle, haggling some time over the price. This he 
lighted at the burning pile of the little boy's mother, 
and with it set Ms own child's pile in flames. They 
had covered the little body with a bright red cloth, 
and it was the prettiest funeral pile of all. By this 
time another body, a wasted and worn old man, had 
come, and they were already bathing him in the Gan- 
ges, while some men were gathering up the ashes of 
somebody who was burned earlier in the day and 
throwing them into the river, where they float to cer- 
tain bliss. So it goes all the time, while a great crowd 
is gathered around, some laughing, some praying, 
some trafficking, some begging. While we looked on, 
an interesting-looking fakir came up with a live snake 



BENARES. 251 

pleasantly curled around his neck, and begged an 
alms, while the boys behind kept pulling the tail of 
his hideous necklace to make him mad. Just down 
the slope beside the water, the mother was being 
burned by the little boy, and the child by her father. 

This is not a cheerful letter, but on less serious 
occasions the Hindoos are a most amusing people. . . . 
They never sit, but squat all over the place. When 
you meet them they make believe take up some dust 
from the ground and put it on their heads. I wish 
you could see my servant Huri. He looks like a 
most sober, pious female of about forty-five. He 
wears petticoats and bloomers. Where he sleeps and 
what he eats, I have not the least idea. He gets $8 a 
month and finds himself, and is the most devoted and 
useful creature you ever saw, but as queer an old 
woman as ever lived. But good-by. I shall be glad 
enough to see you all again. . . . 

The Hindoos are the most pathetic and amusing 
people. . . . This morning, after I had written this 
long letter, we went down again to the Ganges and 
watched the bathers and the burners for a long time. 
On the way we almost destroyed large numbers of 
the infant population, who crawl about the streets and 
run under the horses' feet and are just the color of 
the earth of which they are made, so that it is very 
hard to tell them from the inanimate clay. Almost 
none of them wear any clothes until they are six 
or seven years old ; then their clothes soon get to be 
the same color as their skins and it does not help you 
much. 

We passed a pleasant temple of the Goddess of 
Small-Pox, and looked in a moment just out of associ- 
ation. Her name is Sitla, and her temple is a horrid- 



252 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

looking place. On tlie way througli tlie city there are 
all sorts of amusing sights. Here is a fellow squatted 
down in the dirt, blowing away on a squeaking flute, 
and as he blows there are a lot of snakes, cobras, and 
all sorts of dreadful-looking things swinging back and 
forth around him, and sticking their heads out of his 
baskets. Suddenly the musician starts up and begins 
a fantastic dance, and in a few minutes makes a dive 
at a chap in the crowd, and by sleight of hand seems 
to take a long snake (which he has concealed some- 
where about him) out of the other fellow's turban. 
Then the crowd howl and jeer, and we throw the dirty 
musician a quarter of a cent. 

All this it is pleasantest to see from the carriage ; 
just as we are turning away, there is a cheerful noise 
of a band coming down the narrow street, and there 
appear a dozen men and boys playing on queer drums, 
cymbals, and trumpets. After them a crowd of wo- 
men singing a wild and rather jolly air, then on horse- 
back a small boy of twelve all dressed up in gilt 
23aper and white cloth, and on another horse a little 
girl about the size of Tood, who is his bride. She is 
dressed like a most gorgeous doll, and has to be held 
on the horse by a man who walks behind. They have 
all been down to the Ganges to worship, and now are 
going home to the wedding feast, after which the 
bride ynR be taken to the boy's mother's house to be 
kept for him, and a hard time the little wretch will 
have. The wedding procession comes to grief every 
few minutes in the crowded street ; sometimes a big 
swell on an elephant walks into the midst of the band, 
and for a few minutes you lose sight of the minstrels 
altogether, and only hear fragments of the music com- 
ing out of the neighboring houses, where they have 



BENARES. 253 

taken refuge. Sometimes there come a group of peo- 
ple, wailing, crying, and singing a doleful hymn, as 
they carry a dead body to the Ganges, and for a while 
the funeral and marriage music get mixed ; but they 
always come unsnarled, and the wedding picks itself 
up and goes its way. Then you stop a moment to see 
a juggler make a mango-tree grow in three minutes 
from a seed to a tall bush. Then you drop into the 
bazaars and see their pretty silks ; then you stop and 
listen to a Gooroo preaching in a little nook between 
two houses ; and so you wander on, until you see the 
Ganges flashing in the sun and thousands of black 
and brown backs popping in and out, as the men and 
women take their baths. 

When they come out, they sit with their legs folded 
under them for a long time, look at nothing, and med- 
itate ; then they go to a gentleman who sits under a 
big umbrella with a lot of paint-boxes about him, and 
he puts a daub on their foreheads, whose color and pat- 
tern tell how long they have bathed and prayed, and 
how holy they are after it all. 

I have been looking at Huri, who is squatted on the 
ground in the sun, just outside my door, as I am writ- 
ing. He wears a gold and purple turban. The poor 
fellow was upset in a rickety cab last week, after he 
had left me at the station, and says his bones are bent, 
but he has been carefully examined, and we can find 
no harm. He always sleeps just outside my door at 
night. Last night I heard the jackals when I went 
to bed, and was quite surprised to find the whole of 
Huri in my room when I woke up this morning. I 
wish I could bring him home. . . . 



254 A YEAR IX EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Calcutta, February 3, ISSo. 

Deak Willia^i, — Lots of letters to-day, the best 
of tliem your Clu'istmas letter, telling how you re- 
ceived my Bombay telegram, bow you went to cburcb 
and beard Bisbop Clark, bow you bad lots of presents, 
and went to Salem in tbe afternoon. It was all de- 
ligbtfid, and reading it as we drove along to-day in 
Dbaramtolla Street (wbicb means " tbe TTay of 
Eigbteousness," and a funny, sbabby old Hindoo ^^ay 
of Rigbteousness it is), it seemed as if I saw you all 
at your bome life. Tbe palm-trees turned to elms, 
and tbe naked Indians to Boston men and women, witb 
Boston great-coats buttoned up to tbeir respectable 
Boston cbins. It was all deliobtful I Do tbank for 
me tbe wbole Salem Roimd Robin. 

Since I wrote tbat tremendous letter to Mary last 
Sunday, anotber week of India bas passed. I bave 
been down to Gaya, and seen wbere Buddba sat and 
contemplated for six years, and a marvelous strange 
place it is, witb ten thousand Buddbas carved on every 
side. Tben I came on bere, and bave been seeing 
interesting things and people for three days. Calcutta 
is not half as nice as Bombay, but there are people 
here whom I wanted very much to see. " Stately Bom- 
bay " and "Fair Calcutta" tbe Anglo-Indians are 
fond of saying, 

I bave just written an enormous letter to Arthur 
about Chunder Sen, to whom I made a long visit the 
other day. This afternoon I went to one of the 
schools supported by tbe Zenana Mission (of which 
you have sometimes beard from Trinity reading-desk), 
gave the prizes to a lot of little Hindoos, and made an 
address which was translated into Bengalee for my 
audience. 



'DARJEELING. 255 

... I dined last night with the Whitneys, three 
Boston men who are out here in business. 

Tell Gertie she has not sent me yet her Christmas 
report. At least I have not received it. What a suc- 
cession of splendid preaching you are having ! Oh, 
how I wish you were here to-night. God bless you all. 

Dakjeeling, India, February 7, 1883. 

Dear Miss Morrill, — Instead of writing you a 
letter which could be read at our Ash Wednesday 
meeting, I am writing to you on Ash Wednesday a 
letter which will hardly reach you before Easter. I 
explained to you before that I have been unable to see 
anything of the work of the Zenana Missionary in 
time to let you hear from me before the meeting. It 
is only now, after my visits to the places where our 
missionaries are at work, that I feel as if I had really 
something to say about their labors. From the time 
I entered India I heard much of the Zenana work. In 
Delhi, where I spent some time, English ladies are at 
work in this visitation and teaching of native women, 
and all persons who are interested in the religious and 
social condition of the people of India, whether clergy- 
men or laymen, value their influence very higlily. Of 
course, from the nature of the case it is not a work 
which can make much display of visible results, nor 
can a visitor like myself get any sight even of its pro- 
cesses. But he can talk with those who are enofaored in 
it, hear their descriptions, and learn from those who 
see it constantly what are its effects. Also, besides the 
visitation of Zenanas, the same ladies are engaged in 
teaching school, which one can freely see, and of 
which he can form some judgment for himself. 

The ladies of the American Union Mission whom I 



256 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

have met are Miss Gardner, at Cawnpore, and Miss 
Marston, Miss Cook, and Mrs. Page, in Calcutta. I 
was sorry that Miss Ward was absent from Cawnpore, 
and Miss Lathrop from Allahabad at the times of 
my visit. They had both gone to Calcutta with ref- 
erence to medical treatment for Miss Lathrop, and 
before I reached Calcutta they had returned to their 
respective posts. At Cawnpore the Mission House is 
a bright, pleasant bungalow, where the two American 
ladies live, together with a nrnnber of native teachers 
whom they have trained, and who go out every day 
to teach schools, which they have gathered either in 
the city or in some of the neighboring villages. There 
are fourteen such schools, I think, in or about Cawn- 
pore. One of them is taught in the Mission House 
itseK, and that I saw. The children were bright and 
intelligent, and (translated) answers showed that they 
knew what they were about. 

I saw also what interested me very much, the school 
which is supported by the children of your class and 
Miss Lowell's and Miss Torrey's. I wish they could 
see it. It is described as the most difficult of all the 
schools, situated in a region of most benighted Mo- 
hammedanism, where the parents can hardly be in- 
duced to let the children come. Indeed, there were 
some fears lest the visit of a " Padre Sahib," or Mr. 
Minister, like me, might make trouble, and possibly 
break up the school. I hope that no disastrous results 
will follow from my well-meant and innocent appear- 
ance at the school-door. In the very heart of the 
crowded bazaars you turn from one dirty lane into 
another dirtier and narrower still, and then into the 
dirtiest and narrowest of all, which ends short at a 
native house of very poor sort, but making some small 



DARJEELING. 257 

attempts at tidiness. Tlie door admits at once to tlie 
only room, witli an earth floor and a few benches, 
where you find a native woman who answers to the 
name of Dorcas, and around her about a dozen little, 
rough, sturdy, native girls, into whose dull heads she 
is trying to put the elements of Hindostanee learning. 
It is all homely enough, even wretchedly shabby and 
dreary, as the girls who support the school would 
think if they could see it, but if they saw the homes 
in which their strange little protegees live, and their 
parents, and knew the lives which are before them if 
they go untaught, and could see the condition of other 
schools (which began just as this is beginning), fidl 
of brightness, and happiness, and neatness, and in- 
telligenoe, and religion, they would bid Dorcas go on 
with her work, and feel it a privilege to watch over the 
little school and nurse it to full life. 

I was rather glad, on the whole, to find that our 
children had the hardest and most discouraging field 
in Cawnpore to work from. No one can talk with 
Miss Gardner and not be very much impressed with 
her good judgment and happy devotion to her work. 

In Calcutta I have been several times at the Mis- 
sion House and seen Miss Marston, Miss Cook, and 
their young native assistants, who live with them and 
make a most happy family. There, I could see no- 
thing of the Zenana work, but they told me much about 
it, and from others, as well as from them, I heard 
such testimony as gives me the strongest assurance of 
its value. The only wonder is that the Baboos, or 
native gentlemen, so freely admit these ladies to their 
houses. In Bengal especially there is a strong desire 
for education, which even the secluded women feel, 
and either by their persuasion or by the husbands' 



258 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

own desire, the requisite permission is granted. Of 
course it is in every case clearly understood that the 
visitors mean to give Christian teaching. I have 
made special inquiry upon the point, and am assured 
that no such scandalous deception of the Baboo, as was 
described to us by the lady who addressed the Society 
last year in the chapel of Emmanuel Church, has 
ever been practiced or tolerated by our missionaries. 

A good deal of talk with Miss Marston has im- 
pressed me with the good sense and intelligence of 
her methods, and I am more confident than ever that 
our church does better work nowhere than in the con- 
tribution which it makes to the Zenana Mission. 

The schools which are under the care of these Cal- 
cutta ladies are very interesting. I have visited sev- 
eral of them, and heard their recitations both in Eng- 
lish and Bengalee. The former was so good that I 
could have no doubt about the latter. And the chil- 
dren's faces told the story, which to any one who has 
watched for a month or two the ordinary look of Hin- 
doo children's countenances was unmistakable. 

Last Saturday afternoon I went to a prize festival 
of two of these schools, which I wish that the friends 
of the Mission could have seen. A generous Baboo 
had kindly offered the use of the courtyard of his 
house, which was prettily decorated for the occasion. 
He and a number of his friends came and looked on 
with the greatest interest. Even some of the ladies 
of his household were watching what went on from 
an upper gallery. Some hundred and fifty children 
were there, with that strange, pensive, half-sad look 
in their eyes which makes the faces of Hindoo chil- 
dren so pathetic. Some of them, however, had fun 
enough in them. Many of them were gorgeous in 



DARJEELING, 259 

bright colors and trinkets. Most of tlieni had fine 
rings in their ears, they all had rings in their noses, 
and the finest of them also had rings on their toes. 
Their little brown ankles tinkled with their anklets as 
they trotted up barefoot to get their dolls, and they 
answered Bible questions as I wish the children of 
Trinity school would answer them. They sang strange, 
sweet Bengalee words to tunes which all our children 
know, and after I had given them their prizes I made 
a little speech, which was translated to them, and I 
hope they understood, for I wanted them to know how 
much their American friends cared for these little 
friends of theirs. 

I wish that I had time to tell you about Mrs. Page's 
Orphan Asylum. Most of these orphans are found- 
lings, and one could not look at them without think- 
ing what their lives must have been, save for this 
home ; if indeed without it, they could have had any 
life at all ; many of them must have died in infancy. 
Now those who have been with Mrs. Page for years 
are as cheerful and cheery a lot of little Christian 
maidens as any school in America can show. Some 
of the teachers in the schools of which I have been 
speaking were brought up in this home. There are 
some seventy or eighty inmates now. 

But I must not go on forever. You will see that my 
whole visit to this Zenana work and my acquaintance 
with the workers have deepened the faith in it which 
I have always rather blindly felt. I know it now, and 
I know that it is good. Those who have given their 
contributions year after year may rest assured that 
they have really helped the minds and souls of Hindoo 
women, shut up in the dreary monotony and frivol- 
ity of their Zenanas, and made possible for Hindoo 



260 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

children happy and useful lives, of which they had no 
chance except for such help. I congratulate you 
and the other ladies, who have had the privilege of 
helping on this work and keeping alive other people's 
interest in it. If anything that I can ever do or say 
can give it encouragement or strength, I shall be 
very glad. 

Foreign missions lose something of their romance, 
but they gain vastly in reality and interest when one 
sees them here at work. I should be very glad to 
think that in all this long letter I had succeeded in 
giving you any idea of how it all looks when one sees 
it with his own eyes. Believe me ever 

Most sincerely yours, Phillips Brooks. 

Calcutta, February 11, 1883. 

Dear William, — This week I have seen the Hima- 
layas. Last Monday we left Calcutta at three o'clock 
by rail ; at seven we crossed the Ganges on a steam- 
boat, just as if it had been the Susquehanna. All 
night we slept in the train, and the next day were 
climbing up and up on a sort of steam tramway, 
which runs to Darjeeling, a summer station at the foot 
of the highest hills, but itself a thousand feet higher 
than the top of Mt. Washington. There the swells go 
in the hot months, but now it is almost deserted. We 
reached there on Tuesday evening in the midst of rain, 
found that the great mountains had not been seen for 
eight days, and everybody laughed at our hope of seeing 
them. We slept, and early the next morning looked 
out on nothing but clouds. But about eight o'clock 
the curtain began to fall, and before nine there was a 
most splendid view of the whole range. In the midst 
was the lordly Kinchin jinga, the second highest moun- 



CALCUTTA. 261 

tain in the world, over 28,000 feet high. Think of 
that ! Certainly, they made the impression of height, 
such as no momitains ever gave me before. 

By and by we rode about six miles to another hill 
called Senchul, where the tip of Mt. Everest, the high- 
est mountain in the world, 29,002 feet, is visible. That 
was interesting, but the real glory of the day was 
Kinchin jinga. We gazed at him till the jealous clouds 
came again in the afternoon and covered him ; then 
we roamed over the little town and went to a Bud- 
dhist village a couple of miles away. The people 
here are Thibetans by origin, and they keep associa- 
tions with the tribes upon the other side of the great 
hills. A company of Thibetans, priests and Lamas, 
had come over to celebrate the New Year, which with 
them begins on the 9th of February. They had the 
strangest music and dances, and queer outdoor plays, 
and we were welcomed as distinguished strangers, and 
set in the place of honor, feasted with oranges, and 
begged for backsheesh. 

The next morning there were the giant hills again, 
and we looked at Kinehinjinga (I want you to learn 
his name) till eleven o'clock, when we took the train 
again for Calcutta, and arrived there on Friday after- 
noon about five. It was a splendid journey, and one 
to be always remembered. On my return to Calcutta 
I found two invitations waiting: one was to dine at 
the Government House with the Viceroy on Thursday 
evening. Of course, I was too late for that, and was 
very sorry, for now I shall not see the great man and 
the viceregal court at all. The other was to an even- 
ing party on Friday, given by the Rajah Rajendra 
Narayan del Bahadur, " in honor of the late British 
victory in Egypt." Of course I went to this, and it 



262 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

was tlie biggest tiling seen in India for years. It is 
said to have cost the old Eajah a lac of rupees, or 
$100,000. At any rate, it was very splendid and 
very queer, — acres of palace and palace grounds 
blazing with lights, a thousand guests, the natives in 
the most beautiful costumes of silk and gold ; a Nautch 
dance going on all the time in one hall, a full circus, 
— horses, acrobats, clowns, and all, only after native 
fashion, — in a great covered courtyard, supper per- 
petual, and the great drawing-room blazing with fam- 
ily jewels. I stayed till one o'clock, and then came 
home as if from the Arabian Nights, and went to 
bed. 

But I cannot tell you all I am doing or have done. 
This •morning, for a change, I preached from Henry 
Martyn's old pulpit in the Mission Church. To-mor- 
row morning, we sail on the P. & O. steamer Rohilla 
for Madras, a three days' voyage. Thence we travel 
by Tanjore, Trichinopoly, and Madura to Tuticorin. 
Then across by sea to Colombo, and after a week in 
Ceylon sail in the Yerona (P. & O.) on the 7th of 
March (the day Daniel Webster made his speech) 
for Suez. From Suez by rail to Alexandria, seeing 
Cairo on the way, and the recent battlefield of Tel El 
Kebir. When you get this, about the 24th of March, 
I shall probably be in Alexandria, perhaps spend 
Easter there. Thence I somehow go to Spain, getting 
there about April 1. 

Your New Year's letter reached me yesterday. A 
thousand thanks for it. Next year we will have such 
a watch-meeting as was never known. Now the year 
is more than haK over. How fast it has gone, and 
henceforth we draw nearer and nearer to each other. 
When I get to England, it will almost seem at home. 



MADRAS. 263 

Tell M., and A., and G., and S. that I love them 
all. G.'s Christmas report not yet received. 

Affectionately, P. 

Madras, February 18, 1883. 

My dear William, — We had a beautiful sail 
down from Calcutta. For four days the Rohilla slid 
along over the most beautiful glassy sea, the sky was 
lovely at sunrise and sunset, the nights were the most 
gorgeous moonlight, and the sun at noon was hotter 
than Sancho. There were a good many pleasant peo- 
ple on board, two bishops, an archdeacon, and the 
usual queer lot of sailors who run the steamships in 
these Eastern seas. We arrived at Madras very early 
on Friday morning, and I have been charmed with 
the place ever since. It was glorious last night. I 
drove five miles into the country to dine at Mr. 
Sewall's. He is the archaeological director of the dis- 
trict, and knows all about the Vishnu temples and 
the Buddhist Topes, of which the whole region is f ull. 
The road ran through long avenues of banyan-trees, 
which looked like ghosts with their long arms ; little 
temples peeped through the trees, and picturesque 
groups of people were flitting about on foot, or in 
queer bidlock carts, and it was all as unlike the Mill- 
dam as possible. We had a charming dinner with 
people who knew all about India, and drove home at 
eleven o'clock through the February summer night. 

I sent from Calcutta a box which will reach you in 
due time ; not for a long time, perhaps, for I left it 
there to be sent the first time there was a sailing ves- 
sel going direct to Boston. There is nothing particu- 
lar in it. Only a few travel books, which I wanted to 
get out of the way, and a number of small traps, which 



264 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

have accumulated in my trunk. There is nothing 
really fine or artistic to buy in India. Art seems to 
have stopped here some two hundred years ago, so I 
have made no purchases, and these things in the box 
are mere trinkets and a few pieces of cloth and some 
photographs. . . . 

There is something which I wish you would do some 
time, when it is not much bother. When I left I took 
some sermons with me in a great hurry. I did not 
make a very good selection, and do not like what I 
have brought ; when I get to England I may preach 
some more. Would it be much trouble for you to go 
some afternoon into my study, and look in the back 
of my writing-table and find six or eight sermons, 
among the later ones, which you think would do, and 
send them to me at Barings', only marking them not 
to be forwarded, but kept for me there ? You will 
know about the ones to send. There is one about 
Gamaliel, which I remember. Do not hurry about 
this, but if you think of it some afternoon, do it like 
a good fellow, won't you, and I will do as much for 
you when you come to India. 

Strawberries are first-rate here, cocoanuts and plan- 
tains and oranges and guavas everywhere. It will 
be hard to leave these gentle Hindoos and their de- 
lightful land when the time comes, three weeks hence. 
The only compensation will be that I shall be coming 
nearer to you all. Affectionately, P. 

Tanjore, India, February 23, 1883. 

Dear aunt Susan, — I hope you are all weU, and 
I wish that I could drive up the side yard, this 
morning, and find you all there, going on in the good 
old-fashioned way. Instead of that, I am sitting here 



TANJORE. 265 

in the midst of heathenism, in the big room of an 
Indian bimgalow, with a punkah swinging overhead to 
keep me cool, propelled by a rope which a naked 
heathen boy is pulling on the veranda outside, and 
with the sun blazing down on the palm-trees and bam- 
boos as it never blazes, even in August, in the back 
garden. This morning, while it was still cool, I went 
to the great temple, and saw the worship of the great 
god Siva. The worshipers were a strange-looking 
set, some of them very gentle and handsome, others 
wild and fierce ; but all groveling before the most 
hideous idol, and hiding their faces in the dust, wliile 
the big priest clothed the image with flowers, washed 
him, set his food and drink before him, and anointed 
him with dreadfid-smelling oil. 

It is strange to be right in the midst of pure, blank 
heathenism, after one has been hearing and talking 
about it all his life. And it is certainly as bad as it 
has been painted. I have seen a good deal of the 
missionaries here, and a good many of them are doing 
very noble work, but the hosts on hosts of heathen 
must be a pretty discouraging sight to them some- 
times. However, I saw a dozen or more funeral piles 
burning the other day at Benares, and so there are 
that number less of unconverted heathen in the land. 

We have had a splendid two months here, and now 
only two weeks remain before we shall sail from " Cey- 
lon's Isle " for Europe, where it will seem as if I were 
almost in the midst of you again. But all the rest of 
my life I shall have pictures before my mind of these 
queer peoj^le riding on elephants (that they prod with 
a sharp iron stick behind the ear to make them go), 
squatting on their heels in the sunniest sunshine they 
can find, and religiously bathing in big tanks and tug- 



266 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

ging at the heavy cars on whicli tliey love to drag 
their horrible gods about the country ; smiling, cheat- 
ing, lying dreadfully, and making their country as 
picturesque as anything can be in all the world. It 
will be good to get back again, for after all one wants 
to be at work. William, Arthur, and John have writ- 
ten me from time to time, — William constantly, — 
and from them I have heard all the news. The best 
is that everything is going on without change, and that 
I shall find you all next September just as I left you 
last June. You will not doubt that I think of you a 
great deal. Give my best love to aunt S. and aunt 
C, and write to me when you can. 
Ever most affectionately, 

Phillips Brooks. 

TmcHiNOPOiiT, February 25, 1883. 

Dear William, — I am staying at the house of 
Mr. Sewall, the chief collector of this district, who has 
taken us in and given us his hospitality for a couple 
of days. We have reached southern India, and the 
hot weather is on us, so that except in early morn- 
ing and late afternoon there is no possibility of moving 
about and seeing things. What people will do here 
two or three months hence I can hardly imagine. 
The sun's heat is tremendous, and even with perpetual 
punkahs swinging in every room where anything is 
being done, eating, or writing, or reading, or talking, 
or sleeping, life is hardly tolerable. Nevertheless, we 
have had a good sort of week. Last Sunday evening 
we went on board a canal-boat at Madras, a funny 
little tub of a thing, and were towed all night by 
coolies, running along the bank for about thirty miles, 
to a place called Mahabalihuram, where there are 



TRICHINOPOLY. 267 

some wonderful pagodas or Hindoo temples, and some 
remarkable old sculptures on the rocks of enormous 
size. 

It was a gorgeous moonlight night, and the sensa- 
tion of being pulled along through this wild country 
by these naked figures, striding and tugging on the 
banks, was very curious. The next day we spent at 
the pagodas, which were built nobody knows when or 
by whom, and which have the whole Hindoo my- 
thology marvelously carved in their rocky walls. Mon- 
day night we took the same way back, and it was hard 
to turn in and leave the strange picture which I saw, as 
I sat in the stern of the little craft. 

We took our own servants, beds, and provisions 
with us, and stopped each evening and spread our 
table for dinner in the desert, by the side of the canal. 
After our return, we spent one more day in Madras, 
and then started southward toward Ceylon. • We 
stopped first at Chedambaram, where there is a stupen- 
dous temple, with heathenism in full blast, processions 
of Vishnu, Siva, and the other gods going about with 
drums, trumpets, and cymbals all the time. Then to 
Tanjore, where there is the most beautiful of the big 
pagodas, and where we spent a delightful day. Thence 
to this place, where yesterday we saw the richest 
temple of all, in which the jewels and gold clothing 
of two horrid little brass idols are worth ten lacs 
of rupees, $1,000,000. The collector had sent word 
that we were coming, and they had the jewels all 
spread out for us to see, while crowds of gaping 
natives stood outside the rope and watched the pre- 
cious things as we examined them. A dozen officials 
had to show them, for the great chest has so many 
locks, and each official keeps a separate key. It can- 



268 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

not be unlocked witliont tlie presence of tlieni all, a 
sort of combination-safety arrangement whicli I com- 
mend to tbe Boston bank directors. 

I am sincerely blue at the prospect of leaving India 
in ten days more. I try to fix every picture in my 
memory, so tliat I may not lose it. But I bate to 
think that I shall never see it again. The people 
cheat, lie, worship false gods, and do all sorts of hor- 
ridly wicked things, but they are evidently capable of 
a better life. Their land is full of monuments which 
show what they once were, and there is a courtesy, 
mild dignity, and perpetual picturesqueness about 
them which is fascinating. 

This morning I went to an early service and saw 
the grave of Bishop Heber in the chancel. I was go- 
ing to preach for the minister this evening, but he 
could not find a surplice of decent leng-th, and it had 
to be given up. 

On Friday I shall be at Colombo, and then shall 
get some letters from you all and learn what you are 
doino\ I can imasrine, but verv often I wish that I 
could look throuofh the thick world and see. At this mo- 
ment you are sound asleep, preparing for the Sunday 
and the excitement of hearing some gTcat man at 
Trinity. I hope it is n't very cold. Oh, that I could 
give you some of this heat ! My love to everybody. 
Always affectionately, P. 

KAifDT, March 4, 1883. 
My dear Mahy, — Do you know I think tliis 
place is good enough and important enough from 
which to write you a letter. In the first place, it is 
the farthest point of my travels ; from this time my 
face is turned homeward. In the second place, I 



KANDY. 269 

think it must be the most beautiful place in the 
world. I do not see how there could be one more 
beautiful. I wish you could have driven with me this 
morning at sunrise, through the roads with hundreds 
of different kinds of palm-trees, and to the Buddhist 
temple, where they were offering fresh flowers to Bud- 
dha and banging away on drums in his honor enough 
to kill you ; then out to the gardens where cinnamon, 
nutmeg, clove-trees, tea and coffee plants, pineapples, 
mangoes, bamboos, banyans. India-rubber trees, and 
a hundred other curious things are growing. Here 
and there you meet an elej^hant or a peacock, and 
the pleasant-faced natives smile at you out of their 
pretty houses. 

Oh, this beautiful island of Ceylon ! 
With the coeoanut-trees on the shore ; 
It is shaped like a pear with the peel on, 
And Kandy lies in at the core. 

And Kandy is sweet (you ask Gertie !) 
Even when it is spelt with a K, 
And the people are cheerful and dirty, 
And dress in a comical way. 

Here comes a particular dandy, 
With two ear-rings and half of a shirt, 
He 's considered the swell of all Kandy, 
And the rest of him 's covered with dirt. 

And here comes the belle of the city, 
With ring's on her delicate toes, 
And eyes that are painted and pretty, 
And a jewel that shakes in her nose. 

And the dear little ^Is and their brothers. 
And the babies so jolly and fat. 
Astride on the hips of their mothers, 
And as black as a g-entleman's hat. 



270 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 

And the queer little heaps of old women, 
And the shaven Bnddhistieal priests, 
And the lake -which the worshipers swim in, 
And the wagons with curious beasts. 

The tong-ue they talk mostly is Tamul, 
Which sounds you can hardly tell how, 
It is half like the scream of a camel, 
And half like the grunt of a sow. 

But it is too hot to make any more poetry. It is per- 
fectly ridiculous how hot it is. I would not walk to that 
Buddhist temple opposite for anything. If I tried 
to, you would never see my familiar face in Claren- 
don Street any more. I am glad, with all the beauty of 
Ceylon, that there are only two days more of it. It is 
too near the equator. On Wednesday morning the 
Yerona sails from Colombo, and will carry me to Suez, 
and the Indian trip is over. It has been one unmixed 
pleasure from beginning to end. 

We have a new boy. Hiu-i's lang-uage gave out at 
Calcutta. He did not know the queer tongues they 
talk in southern India, and he had to be sent back to 
Bombay. We parted with tears and rupees. Then 
came another boy, who had to be summarily dismissed. 
He was too stupid for anything. It made the journey 
far too laborious when we had to take care of him. 
Now we have a beautiful creature named Tellegoo, 
or something like that. He wears a bright yellow 
and green j)etticoat, which makes him look very gay, 
and a tortoise-shell comb in his hair. . . . Our asso- 
ciation ^ith him will be brief, for we leave him on the 
wharf when we sail, Wednesday, and there will be 
fewer rupees and no tears. 

I went to church this morning, and the minister 
preached on the text, " Bake me a little cake first," 



STEAMER VERONA. 271 

and the point was, that before you bought any clothes 
or food, you must give something towards the endow- 
ment of the English church at Kandy. It was really 
a pretty sermon. . . . 

There are the Buddhists howling again. It must 
be afternoon service. The priests go about without a 
bit of hair on their heads, and wrapped in dirty yellow 
sheets. . . . 

P. &0. Steamer Vekona, March 11, 1883. 

Dear William, — I wrote last Sunday to M. 
from beautiful Kandy. That letter, I suppose, is 
somewhere on board this ship at this moment; but 
not to break my good habit of a weekly letter, I will 
send you this, to show how I felt when we were half- 
way from Colombo to Aden, and next Sunday I will 
send still another from wherever we are in the Red 
Sea. You will get them altogether, but you can read 
them in their order, and so get three consecutive 
weeks of my important biography at one time. 

It seems so strange to be on the sea again and think- 
ing about the Indian journey as a finished thing. The 
days from Venice to Bombay keep coming back, when 
I was full of wonder about it all. Now, I know at 
least a great deal about what I shall always think one 
of the most delightful and interesting lands in all the 
world. In some respects, the last bit of it was almost 
the best. The tropics had seemed to elude us before*. 
Many a time in India it seemed as if the landscape 
were almost what one might have seen at home, but 
the minute that we touched Ceylon, everything was 
different. One cannot conceive of the gorgeousness of 
nature. Only the night before we left, we drove a 
few miles along the seashore, with such groves of enor- 



272 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

mous palms and cocoanuts on one side, and such color 
of sunset on tlie water on tlie other side, as no dream 
or picture ever began to suggest. And the whole four 
hours' ride from Colombo to Kandy is marvelous. 
The mountains are superb, and in the valleys there 
are depths of jungle which show what the earth is at 
only eight degrees from the equator. And then in 
Ceylon for the first time we saw Buddhism, that great 
religion which sprang up in India, and has completely 
disappeared in the land of its birth, but has spread 
elsewhere, till more than a quarter of the human race 
are Buddhists. We just caught sight of it when we 
were close to the Himalayas on the borders of Thibet, 
but in Ceylon we saw the strange system in its full- 
ness. 

Last Monday afternoon I drove out to the Buddhist 
college and saw the old high-priest teaching a class of 
students, who sat around him with their shaven heads 
and their yellow robes, getting ready to continue this 
atheistical religion for another generation. The old 
fellow looked up and asked us who we were. I gave 
him my card, which he spelled out with difiiculty, then 
he asked me, "Do you know anything about me ? " 
and seemed disappointed and disgusted when I was 
obliged to tell him that, much as we were interested 
in his religion, and glad as we were to see his college, 
we had never heard of him before in all our lives. He 
evidently did not understand how local his great rep- 
utation was. He dismissed his class and untwisted 
his legs, and got down and toddled away. 

We have been four days on the Yerona. The peo- 
ple are pleasant, the captain is cordial and agreeable, 
and the weather is cool, so the voyage is charming. 
The Archdeacon of Calcutta is on board, and preached 



STEAMER VERONA. 273 

this morning. He is a very jolly sort of person, I 
am to preach next Smiday. There are some pri- 
vate theatricals in prospect, so the future looks lively. 
Next Sunday you shall hear how the week has gone. 

Long before you get this, the great house ques- 
tion will be settled, and you will have decided where 
your declining years are to be passed, whether in the 

house in G Street, which I know already, or in 

some new nest in M or B streets. Which- 
ever it is, I have the deepest interest in it, and shall 
be very anxious to hear. Very many of my few re- 
maining hours will be spent by the new fireside, and 
years hence, I shall come tottering up to the door to 
recall the old days when we were young and I went 
away to spend a winter in India. I cannot help wish- 
ing that the change, if there is to be one, might bring 

you nearer to the corner of C and N streets, 

instead of taking you farther away, as I fear it 
will. . . . 

Spain is the next thing, and I am counting much 
upon it. I have some expectation of meeting the 
Brimmers there, but it is not at all certain. At pres- 
ent I am alone. Wendell left me at Suez to go to 
Cairo, and then to Palestine. He has been a very 
agreeable companion, intelligent, good-natured, always 
bright and obliging. I feel very much attached to 
him. 

I had a letter at Suez from Canon Farrar, asking 
me to preach for him in the Abbey and also at St. 
Margaret's. I wrote him that I would do so, and 
England begins to seem as if it were not very far 
away. All of May and June I hope to be there. The 
Captain sends his love. Good-by. 



274 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Steamship Veeona, 
Sunday, March 18, 1883. 

My deak Gertie, — It seems to me that our cor- 
respondence has not been very lively lately. I don't 
think I had a letter from you all the time I was in 
India. I hoped I should, because I wanted to show 
it to the Rajahs, and other great people, and let them 
see what beautiful letters American children can write. 
But now I am out of India, and for the last ten days 
we have been sailing on and on, over the same course 
where we sailed last December. Last Tuesday we 
passed Aden, and stopped there about six hours. I 
went on shore, and took a drive through the town and 
up into the country. If you had been with me you 
would have seen the solemn-looking camels, stalking 
along with solemn-looking Arabs on their backs, look- 
ing as if they had been riding on and on that way 
ever since the days of Abraham. I think I met Isaac 
and Jacob on two skinny camels, just outside the gates 
of Aden. I asked them how Esau was, but Jacob 
looked mad and would n't answer, and hurried the old 
man on, so that I had no talk with them ; but I feel 
quite sure it was they, for they looked just like the 
pictures in the Bible. 

Since that we have been sailing up the Red Sea, 
and on Monday evening we shall be once more at 
Suez, and there I say good-by to my companion, who 
stops in Egypt, and goes thence to Palestine, while I 
hurry on to Malta and Gibraltar in the same steamer. 
She is a nice little steamer, with a whole lot of chil- 
dren on board, who fight all the while and cry the rest 
of the time. Every now and then one of them almost 
goes overboard, and then all the mothers set up a gTeat 
howl, though I don't see why they should care very 



STEAMER VERONA. 275 

much about such children as these are. I shoukl 
think it would be rather a relief to get rid of them. 
Now, if it were you, or Agnes, or Tood, it would be 
different I 

There has just been service on deck, and I preached, 
and the people all held on to something and listened. 
I would a great deal rather preach in Trinity. 

I hope you will have a pleasant Easter. Mine will 
be spent, I trust, in Malta. Next year I hope you will 
come and dine with me on Easter Day. Don't forget I 
My love to Tood. Your affectionate uncle, 

Phillips. 

On the p. & O. Steamship Verona, 
March 19, 1883. 

Little Mistkess Josephine, 

Tell me, have you ever seen 

Children half as queer as these 

Babies from across the seas ? 

See their fimny little fists. 

See the rings upon their wrists ; 

One has very little clothes. 

One has jewels in her nose ; 

And they all have silver bangles 

On their little heathen ankles. 

In their ears are curious things. 

Round their necks are beads and strings, 

And they jingle as they walk. 

And they talk outlandish talk ; 

One, you see, has hugged another, 

Playing she 's its little mother ; 

One who sits all lone and lorn, 

Has her head all shaved and shorn. 

Do you want to know their names ? 



276 A YEAR IX EUROPE AND INDIA. 

One is called Jeefungee Haines, 
One Biiddlianda Arrich Bas, 
One Teedundee Hanki Sas. 

Many such as these I saw, 
In the streets of old Jeypore ; 
They never seemed to cry or laugh, 
But, sober as the photogTaph, 
Squatted in the great bazaars. 
While the Hindoos, theii* mammas. 
Quarreled long about the price 
Of their little mess of rice, 
And then, when the j&ght was done, 
Every mother, one by one. 
Up her patient child would whip. 
Set it straddling on her hip, 
And trot off all crook'd and bent 
To some hole, where, well content. 
Hers and baby's days are spent. 

Are n't you glad, then, little Queen, 

That your name is Josephine ? 

That you live in Spring-field, or 

Not, at least, in old Jeypore ? 

That youi' Christian parents are 

John and Hattie, Pa and Ma ? 

That you 've an entire nose. 

And no rings upon your toes ? 

In a word, that Hat and you 

Do not have to be Hindoo ? 

But I thought you "d like to see 

What these little heathen be. 

And give welcome to these three 

From your loving UncLE P. 



STEAMER VERONA, 211 

Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883. 

Dear Johnny, — I must send you an Easter 
greeting from this queer cabin, where, and on the 
deck above it, we have spent our Easter Day. I hoped 
that we shoidd be at Malta for the great festival, but 
we were detained a long while in the Suez Canal, and 
shall not be at Malta till next Wednesday. On Sat- 
urday, I hope to land at Gibraltar. 

. . . How I wish you were here to-night. We would 
sit late on deck, and you should tell me all about 
Springfield ; and I would tell you all about India. 
This long return voyage is a splendid chance to think 
it over, and arrange in one's memory the recollections 
of the wondrous land. Besides the countless pictures 
which one saw every day, eleven great sights stand out 
which you must see when you go to India. They are 
these : — 

First, the rock temples of Karli and EUora. 
Think of buildings big as Christ Church, Springfield, 
not built, but hewn out of the solid rock, and covered 
inside and out with Hindoo sculptures of the richest 
sort. 

Second, the deserted city of Ambir, a city of the 
old Moguls, with hardly a human inhabitant, and 
palaces and temples abandoned to the jackals and 
the monkeys. 

Third, the Kuttub at Delhi, the most beautiful col- 
umn in the world, covered with inscriptions ; the most 
splendid monument of the Mohammedan power. 

Fourth, the golden temple at Amritsir. Think of 
a vast artificial lake, in whose centre, reached by a 
lovely white marble bridge, is the holy place of the 
Sikhs, the lower half of most delicate marble mosaics, 
and the upper of sheets of beaten gold. 



278 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 

Fifth, the Taj at Agra, a dream of beauty; the 
tomb of an old Mogul empress, made of the finest 
marble, and inlaid in the most dainty way. The whole 
as large as the State House. 

Sixth, the river shore of the Ganges at Benares. 
Mile after mile of palaces and temples, and in front 
of them the bathing-places of the living and the 
burning-places of the dead. 

Seventh, Buddh-Gaya, where Buddha sat for six 
years under the bo-tree, till enlightenment came to 
him. A valley fidl of Buddhist temples is there now. 

Eighth, the \dew of Kinchinjinga, from Darjeeling, 
the second highest mountain in the world. Think 
of a hill five times as high as Mt. Washington, blaz- 
ing with snow in the sunshine. 

Ninth, the seven pagodas near Madras, where whole 
stories of the Hindoo mythology are sculptured on the 
face of perpendicular rocks; and they are queer 
enough. 

Tenth, the Sivite temple at Tan j ore, one mass of 
brilliant color and sculiDture, with its great pyramid, 
two hundred feet high. 

Eleventh, the temple at Kandy, in Ceylon, where 
they keep Buddha's tooth. You see the strange Bud- 
dhist priests and their strange ways. 

These are the greatest things in India, and there are 
ever so many more like them, only not quite so great 
or interesting. I am very glad I went, and I wish 
that everybody who cares about interesting things 
could go there, too. . . . 

Steajiship Yeeoka, March 25, 1883. 

Dear William, — This is not much of a place for 
Easter Day. We have had the queerest sort of 



STEAMSHIP VERONA. 279 

week. Last Monday niglit we reached Suez, and put 
about half our ship's company on shore to go to Alex- 
andria, Brindisi, and Venice. Since then we have 
been dragging along through the Suez Canal. There 
were twenty-six steamships in single file ; we were the 
eleventh. Every now and then. No. 1 or No. 6 would 
get aground, and then we all had to wait till it got 
loose, five or six hours, as the case might be. Every 
night, the whole twenty-six of us pulled up and tied 
fast to the bank, and waited for morning. So we 
crept along till yesterday (Saturday, Easter even), 
when we reached Port Said, where we stayed four 
hours, and then launched out into the broad Mediter- 
ranean. Now all is clear. The broad sea is rolling 
merrily around us, we have a lot of sail set, and are 
scudding on towards Malta. We shall get there on 
Wednesday ; I hope to be put on shore at Gibraltar 
some time on Saturday, the 31st, and begin my Span- 
ish experiences on April Fool's Day. 

Meanwhile, here is Easter Day at sea. A mission- 
ary from New York, on his way home from China with 
a sick wife, has just read the morning service. He did 
not attempt any sermon, and the singing was uncom- 
monly feeble. Only the religious passengers came 
down for service. Now there will be nothing more to 
show that it is Easter Day, — no children's service 
this afternoon, no flowers, no eggs, nothing but the 
monotonous plunging of the ship as she goes on 
towards Malta. 

After all, it is rather good fun, this long voyage. 
I have had time to read big books on India, and 
the people are some of them pleasant, some of them 
amusing. They are mostly returning Anglo-Indi- 
ans, with something the matter either with their 



280 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

lungs or with tlieir livers. They are peevish and pos- 
itive, not liking to be contradicted, and very set in 
their opinions. ... It is all very nice. Then there 
are a few really bright, companionable people, and I 
have a beautiful pipe. 

An Easter greeting to you all. . . . Thanks for a 
lot of good papers and letters, which I received at 
Suez. They were a great resource in the canal. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Gibraltar, April 1, 1883. 

Mt dear Gertie, — I am so sorry that you have 
been ill. If you had only come with me on the Ser- 
via, and not stayed at home to work so hard over your 
lessons, I do not believe you would have been ill at 
all. And this morning the long voyage from Ceylon 
would have been over. I wrote you a beautiful letter 
two weeks ago to-day from the Yerona, which I hope 
you got. Ever since that, we have been sailing, and sail- 
ing, and sailing, till it seemed as if we were never go- 
ing to stop. We did stop two or three times, but we 
always had to go aboard and start again. We stopped 
at Aden, and Suez, and Port Said, and last Wednesday 
at Malta. Malta was very nice. We stayed there six 
hours, and wandered about the streets while the Ve- 
rona was getting coal. The town is beautifully white 
and clean, and the Yerona, when we came back to her 
again, was very black and dirty. But they washed 
her all off while we were at dinner. 

At Malta we saw the church where all the old 
knights of Malta are buried, and the armor which 
they used to wear, and then there is a queer old church, 
which the monks have the care of, and when a monk 
dies, they do not bury him underground, or burn him 



GRANADA. 281 

up with fire, which would be better, but they stand 
him up in a niche, in his monk's frock, and leave him ; 
and there they are, a whole row of dry monks, dread- 
ful-looking things, with their labels on them, to tell 
who they used to be when they were alive. 

Well, Wednesday afternoon we left Malta and 
sailed on and on in the Verona. There did not much 
happen on the Verona all the way. The people were 

not very interesting. Only, Miss G got engaged 

to the fourth officer, and that interested us all very 

much indeed, and one morning Audley D and 

Lawrence K got into a great fight on deck, and 

Audley D hit Lawrence K in the eye and hurt 

him, and then the two mothers, Mrs. D and Mrs. 

K , went at each other and scolded terribly. And 

that also interested us very much indeed. 

This is about all I can think of that happened on 
board the Verona. I can't tell you much about Spain 
yet, for I have only been in it about an hour and half. 
The people talk Spanish, which is very awkward, but 
the sailing up to Gibraltar this morning was splendid. 
The narrow gate of the Mediterranean, with its two 
great rocks, one in Europe and one in Africa, was all 
ablaze with the morning sun, and through it, westward, 
lay America and Boston. I am going on Tuesday to 
Malaga and then to Granada. . . Give my love to 
everybody. Your affectionate, 

Uncle Phillips. 

Granada, under the Walls of the Alhambra, 
April 8, 1883. 

Dear William, — I am very glad to hear about 
the new house. I would rather see it this morning 
than the Alhambra, which is towering up above my 



282 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

windows ! Wliat number in M Street is it ? 

Are you going to have ampelopsis growing on the 
front wall ? Which is my room ? . . . Do write me 
all about it, and tell me how it gets on and how it is 
going to look. 

I have-been a week in Spain. I landed at Gibraltar 
last Sunday morning, and immediately wrote a letter 
to G. to signal my arrival. I stayed there till Tues- 
day, and had a first-rate time. It was good to be on 
shore again, and, besides, on the Verona I had struck 
up quite a friendship with a certain Major Wing, who 
was coming home from India on sick-leave. He is a 
first-rate fellow. He landed at Malta, but he gave me 
a letter to the colonel who commands all the artillery 
at Gibraltar, and he was immensely civil. He took 
me all over the fortifications, introduced me at the 
Glub, and made me almost live at his house, where 
were a very pleasant wife and children ; so I saw 
Gibraltar at its best and have the brightest recollec- 
tions of it. 

Tuesday night I took the boat for Malaga. David 
Whitney and his family were on board, so that I feel 
myself really in the Boston atmosphere again. . . . 

The Alhambra joins on remarkably to the remem- 
brances of India. Here is the farthest west, as there 
is the farthest east, of the Mohammedan conquests, 
and Granada and Delhi have very much in common 
with each other. Granada is the more beautiful, at 
least in situation, for here is the Sierra Nevada (as 
pretty a range of snowy mountains as was ever seen) 
in view all the time, and the best parts of the Alham- 
bra beat anything in the old city of the Moguls. Still 
I like to stand by India, and the substitution here of 
the English tourist (one of whom I heard at lunch 



MADRID. 283 

declare that this is a very much overrated place) for 
the picturesque Hindoo or Mussulman makes a vast 
change. 

I received some letters here, and among others two 
of yours, for which I am as always very grateful. They 
brought you down to March 19, just past Professor 
Allen's Sunday. There was another letter from 
Canon Farrar, fixing it that I am to preach at the Ab- 
bey on the 27th of May, and at St. Margaret's on 
either the 3d or 10th of June. If the latter, it will 
be Hospital Sunday, and so I want you to do me one 
more favor. Will you go to my sermons and get me 
several Hospital Sunday discourses (they are all in- 
scribed on top over the text " Hospital Sunday " ) and 
send them to me. . . . This week I expect to meet 
the Brimmers, next Sunday I shall probably be in 
Seville, the Sunday after in Madrid, and in London 
as soon as possible after the 1st of May. Good-by, 
love to them all. P. 

Madrid, April 15, 1883. 

Dear William, — Ever since I received your letter 
yesterday, I have been trying to realize that it is true 
that aunt S. and aunt C. are really gone. It seems 
almost impossible to picture the old house as it must 
be to-day. ... I wish so much that I had been at 
home, and I hope I shall hear from you some time 
about the last of those two long, faithful lives. . . . 

It seems as if this great change swept away from 
the world the last remnants of the background of our 
earliest life. Even after father and mother went, 
as long as aunt S. lived, there was somebody who had 
to do with us when we were babies. Now that gen- 
eration has all passed away. How many old scenes 



284 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

it brings up. This is Sunday morning, right after 
breakfast, and it seems as if I could see a Sunday morn- 
ing of the old times in Kowe Street, with the general 
bustle of mother and aunt S. getting off to Sun- 
day-school, and father settling down to read to the 
bigger boys in the front parlor ; and there are faint 
memories of much earlier days when the aunts must 
have been blooming young ladies, though they seemed 
to us then almost as old as they ever did in later times. 
I hope the last years of their lives have been haj)py, 
in spite of the suffering. They have been spared what 
was most to be dreaded, long, hopeless illness and 
helplessness. But I am so sorry to hear that aunt 

S had to suffer. ... If there were ever lives 

totally unselfish, and finding all their pleasure in mak- 
ing other people happy, these were they. We know 

aunt S best, of course, but dear little aunt C , 

with her quiet ways, had something very touching 
and beautiful about her. She seems to have slipped 
out of life as unobtrusively and with as little trouble 
as she lived. 

When I left them, of course I knew it was very 
likely that I should not see them again. But all I 
had heard since made me feel as if they would be there 
when I came home. I had a nice letter from aunt 
Susan in the autumn, which must have been a good 
deal of an effort for her to write, and I wrote to her, 
from India, a letter which must have reached Andover 
after it was all over. 

It cannot be long — one cannot ask that it should 

be long — before aunt S follows her sisters. Give 

her my love and sympathy. As it may be that she 
will go before I come home, the old house be left 
empty, and something have to be done about the 



SALAMANCA. 285 

property, I want to say that I should like to buy it, 
and I authorize you to buy it for me, if the chance of- 
fers. Or, if you and Arthur and John would not like 
that, I will join with any or all of you to buy and 
hold it. I do not know whether you liked it well 
enough last summer to think of making it a summer 
home, but I should like to hold it as a place where, 
for the whole or part of any summer, we could gather 
and have a delightful, easy time, among the most 
sacred associations which remain for us on earth. A 
few very simple improvements would make it a most 
charming place, so do not by any chance let it slip, 
and hold, by purchase or otherwise, to as much of the 
furniture as you can. One of these days, when I am 
a little older and feebler, I should like to retire to 
it and succeed Augustine Amory at the little church. 
Is not our window done there yet ? 

I am sorry for poor little G . I hope she is 

better long before this. Tell her I would come home 
and see her if I really thought it would make her 
rheumatism better. If it does not get well quickly, 
tell her to get into the Servia and come over here, and 
we will lay her down in the Spanish sun, and melt it 
out of her. It is hard for the poor little thing to 
have to suffer so. Give her my love, and tell her I 
shall be back in about five months. 

I am with the Brimmers and the Wisters of Phila- 
delphia, a party of seven, which is quite a new travel- 
ing experience for me. I like it. I shall be almost 
in England when you get this. Good-by, P. 

Salamanca, April 29, 1883. 

Dear William, — And so aunt S too is gone, 

and the old house is empty ! I only received your letter 



286 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

last evening, and all the night, as I rode here in the 
train, I was thinking how strange it was. These 
three who began their lives so near together, long ago, 
and who have kept so close to one another all the 
while, now going almost hand in hand into the other 
world. . . . How pathetic it used to be to see aunt 
S sitting there, full of pain, trying to do some lit- 
tle bit of good in her curious ways, with her queer 
little tracts, and her vague desire to exhort everybody 
to be good. I always thought she must have been one 
of the handsomest of the sisters when they were young. 
Surely, no end that we could have dreamed of for 
them could have been more perfect. But how we 
shall miss them ! 

. . . Such a dear old town" as this is ! I am here 
alone. Mr. Brimmer stayed at Madrid. I shall meet 
them again on Tuesday or Wednesday at Burgos. No- 
body here speaks a word of anything but Spanish, and I 
have the funniest time to get along. This morning I 
spent two hours in the cathedral, with an old priest 
with whom I talked in Latin. One of the towers of 
the cathedral gave the suggestion, I think, of the tower 
of Trinity Church in Boston. You will find a cut of 
it in Fergusson's " Architecture " in my library. The 
whole town is a wilderness of architectural delight. 
Convents, churches, cloisters, colleges, and towers 
everywhere. How I wish you were here this after- 
noon. A good long letter from Arthur yesterday. 
Very bright and busy. Well, ours is the generation 
for the next twenty years, then we shall go as they 
have gone, and a new set of youngsters take our places. 
It is all right. . . . 



BURGOS. 287 

BuKGOS, May 2, 1883. 

My de.\r Lizzie, — Your last letter gave me such 
a lively idea of what was goiug on in New York that 
Burgos, by contrast, seems a little dull. Nothing goes 
on in Burgos but the cathedral bells. My breakfast, 
for which I am waiting, does not seem to go on at all. 
But if I think of you all in New York, it will make 
my head spin as much as is good for it, in this quiet 
place, so I am going to answer your letter, in hopes to 
get another. 

Wildes would have been so proud and delighted if 
he could have seen me this morning at 1.17, in fact, 
from that to 3.12. No trains in Spain ever connect 
with any others, so I was left over all that time at 
Venta di Banos, on my way from Leon here. And I 
sat in the railway restaurant at that dead hour of the 
night and read the report of the Eighth Church Con- 
gress, which had reached me just before I started on 
my journey. Think of it ! . . . Was ever such a 
tribute paid to the general secretary before ? I was 
listening still to Dr. Shattuck's account of the early 
Ecclesiastical History of Boston, when the express 
train from Madrid came along, and I got in, and soon 
the cathedral of Burgos came in sight. It really is a 
very great cathedral, the first I have seen in Spain. 

The glorious things I have seen in Spain have been, 
first, the approach to Gibraltar and the Pillars of Her- 
cules ; second, the Alhambra, with the Sierra Nevada 
behind it ; and third, the pictures of Yelasquez at Mad- 
rid. Those things are all superb, worth the journey 
here to see, if there were nothing else. There is a lot 
else scattered along the road, but those are the great 
things, and as to Gothic architecture, he who has seen 
Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and Cologne (to say nothing 



288 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

of York and Durham) need not be impatient about 
seeing Seville, or Leon, or Toledo, or even Burgos; 
though Burgos is far the finest of them all, and must 
rank, though not very high, among the greatest cathe- 
drals of the world. 

There is something in their architecture that is like 
the people, a trace of something coarse, a lack of just 
the best refinement. The people whose great medi- 
aeval glory is the Inquisition, and whose great modern 
delight is the bull-fight, must have something brutal 
in their very constitution. Now the Moors were thor- 
ough gentlemen, not a touch in them of the sham 
which was always in the Hidalgo ; so the Moorish 
architecture is exquisite in its refinement, and Ve- 
lasquez was too great for the national coarseness to 
spoil him, though he has it, and Gibraltar belongs to 
England ! So that Nature and the Moors and Velas- 
quez have done the finest things in Spain. 

. . . To-morrow I go to Paris, whence I started 
last August to join you in Cologne. It has been a 
long loop, and has inclosed a lot of pleasant things. 
Now the summer is almost here, and then comes — 
home. My friend Mr. Paine, of Boston, talked before 
I left of coming over to join me, about the first of 
July, and I think he will do so. Write me what you 
and Arthur are doing and planning. My love to him. 
Affectionately, Phillips. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 

Whit Sunday, May 13, 1883. 

Dear William, — ... I left the Brimmers at 
Biarritz and came over here from Paris last Tuesday. 
Mr. Brimmer has been the most charming com- 
pany, and all the party have been very pleasant. I 



LONDON. 289 

have seen a good many people since I arrived. Every- 
body is hospitable and kind. This morning I have 
been preaching for Canon Duckworth at St. Mark's 
in St. John's Wood. 

Yesterday I went to the opening of the great Fish- 
eries Exhibition, where they have everything you can 
imagine, from any land you ever (or never) saw, that 
has anything to do with catching fishes. The Prince 
and Princess of Wales were there, and the Prince 
made a speech. I saw him also the other day at the 
Stanley Memorial Committee. He is pleasant-looking 
and has easy manners. The new Dean is very cor- 
dial and friendly. I saw the new Archbishop the other 
day. He looks able and has a real ecclesiastical face. 

I found at Barings' the two packages of sermons which 
you so kindly sent, and I was grateful to you in the 
midst of the row and hurly-burly of Bishopsgate Street. 
They were just what I wanted, except that I am not 
to preach on Hospital Sunday after all. Next Sun- 
day morning I preach at the Chapel Royal, Savoy, 
one of the old historic churches of London. The fol- 
lowing Simday (27th) I preach at the Abbey in the 
evening, and the next Sunday, June 3d, I preach for 
Farrar in St. Margaret's. 

I have a little plan in which I need your help. I 
want to send home some little thing for the church, 
and I thought I would get a piece of nice stained 
glass for the robing-room window, — the little win- 
dow behind which we put on our surplices. It would 
brighten up a little that rather doleful room. Would 
you go to Chester and make him measure it very care- 
fully, giving the exact size of the glass inside the frame, 
and also showing how much of the window is arranged 
to open. Please make him very careful about the 



290 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

exactness of tlie measures. Will you do this as soon 
as you can, so that I can see about it while I am in 
London ? 

I suppose by this time the Andover window must 
be in its j)lace, and I hope it is quite satisfactory. I 
do not suppose that it can be made in any way a 
memorial of the aunts, as well as of father and mo- 
ther. I ahnost wish we could put up somewhere a 
plain tablet with their names upon it, that they might 
be somehow remembered in connection with the 
church. They offered, I believe, at one time, a part 
of the old orchard as the site for it. I am anxious to 
hear what you think of my plans regarding the old 
house. The more I think of it, the more I want it. 

Speaking of mndows, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Fred Dex- 
ter in church to-night, and they tell me that the new 
window in Trinity is wholly satisfactory and very 
beautiful. At present I am very much troubled about 
the little triangle in front of Trinit}^. It looks as if 
it would be built on, and poor Trinity hidden away 
behind a tenement house. If you meet any fellow in 
the street who looks as if he would like to give sixty 
thousand dollars to keep it open, stop him for me and 
tell him we will put up a monument to him in Trinity 
when he dies. Good-by. 

Affectionately, P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
Sunday, May 20, 1883. 

Dear William, — I have been rich in letters this 

last week. First came M — 's, poetry. . . . Then 

Tood's letter, which shows how wonderfully the female 
mind is getting educated in America. To get these 
letters a few days after they were written makes me 



LONDON. 291 

feel as if I were ahiiost at home. On the strength of 
them, I went yesterday and engaged a passage from 
Liverpool for Boston on the Cephalonia, which sails 
the 12th of September. So that I ought to be in 
Clarendon Street on the 22d, and preach in Trinity 
on the 23d ! Will you be glad to see me ? 

So you have sold your old house. We had some 
very good times there, and it will always be dear to 
you. I hope the new one which is building is going 
to see the happiest years of all. We are all good for 
twenty years more, and they shall be as happy as the 
accumulations of the past can make them. Now I am 
going off to preach at the Savoy Chapel. 

Four p. M. 

I have been and preached. There was a great 
crowd, and everything went off very well. . . . Then 
I took lunch with the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. I 
am going there to a dinner on Tuesday, to meet the 
new Archbishop. . . . 

London is very pleasant now, full of interesting peo- 
ple. Friday I dined at Mr. Lowell's, with Professor 
Huxley. There were only four of us, so that we had 
the great skeptic all to ourselves, and he was very in- 
teresting. Next Saturday I am going to Farrar's to 
meet a lot of people. Among others, Matthew Arnold, 
whom I am very anxious to see. He is coming to 
America, I understand, this autumn. 

I am glad John preached at Trinity. Tell the sup- 
plies to hurry up, for they will not have much more 
chance. I am coming home in the Cephalonia. 
Meanwhile, why cannot you run over and join Paine 
and me this summer ? . . . 

Affectionately, P. 



292 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 

May 27, 1883. 

My dear William, — I am very late about my 
Sunday letter. The fact is, I am just home from the 
Abbey, where I have been preaching this evening. 
There was the same great throng of people that is 
always there, and the Abbey was as solemn and glori- 
ous as ever. I could not help putting into my sermon 
an allusion to our dear little Dean of old, which I 
think the people were glad to hear. Then we went 
into the deanery, just the way we used to do. I like 
the new Dean very much, and his love for Stanley 
is delightful. Mrs. Bradley and her daughters are 
also very pleasant. A young fellow, Hallam Tenny- 
son, son of the Poet Laureate, was there. Does it 
not make " In Memoriam " seem very real to meet 
those two names together ? He is a very nice fellow, 
and asked me to come down to the Isle of Wight and 
see his father, which I have a great mind to do. I 
preached for Canon Boyd Carpenter this morning, at 
Christ Church, Lancaster Gate, near Hyde Park. 
Next Sunday morning, I am to preach in old St. 
Margaret's for Farrar, which will be very interesting. 
He gave me a big dinner last night, with many clerical 
folk, the most interesting of whom was Lightfoot, the 
Bishop of Durham, one of the great scholars of the 
English Church. Matthew Arnold was to have been 
there, but at the last moment he was invited to dine 
with Prince Leopold, and it seems that means a com- 
mand, and breaks every other engagement. . . . Far- 
rar has asked me to lunch with him next Thursday, 
so I shall see him there. 

I went on Tuesday to a tremendous dinner j)arty 
at the Baroness Burdett-Coutts's, with swells as thick 



LONDON. 293 

as huckleberries. Then, for variety, I went on Thurs- 
day night with K to an all-night meeting of 

the Salvation Army, what they, in their disagTee- 
able lingo, call " All night with Jesus." They close 
the doors at eleven, and do not let anybody go out till 
half past four A. M. We made arrangements before 
going in that we should be let out at one A. M., and then 
we had to drive an hour in a hansom to get home. 
The meeting was noisy and unpleasant, but there was 
nothing very bad about it, and I am not sure that it 
might not do good to somebody. 

One lovely day this week I went on a Cromwell 
pilgrimage to Huntington, where Oliver was born, and 
saw the register of his baptism, the house in which he 
was born, and the country in the midst of which he 
grew up. It was the sweetest of days, with the aj)ple- 
trees in fidl blossom, and the hawthorn hedges just 
opening in white and pink. These and many other 
things have filled up my time very full, but it is very 
delightful. 

I shall spend two more Sundays in London ; then, 
on the 17th of Jime, I preach for Dean Plmnptre 
at Wells, and probably on the 26th at Lincoln. I 
am going also to make a little visit to the Bishop of 
Rochester. 

. . . The 23d of September will soon be here, and 
who knows but we may be all together in the old 
Andover house by the summer of 1884? I hope 
nothing will interfere with my plans there. I wish 
you were here for to-morrow. We would get up a 
'scursion. . . . Affectionately, P. 



294 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
June 3, 1883. 

My dear Tood, — Your wicked papa has not sent 
me any letter tliis week, and so I am not going to 
write to liim to-day, but I stall answer your beautiful 
letter, whicli traveled all the way to London, and was 
delivered here by a postman with a red coat, two or 
three weeks ago. He looked very proud when he 
came in, as if he knew that he had a beautiful letter 
in his bundle, and all the people in the street stood 
aside to make way for him, so that Tood's letter might 
not be delayed. 

How quickly you have learned to read and write ! 
I am very sorry for you, for they now will make you 
read and study a great many stupid books, and you 
will have to write letters all your days. When I get 
home, I am going to make you write my sermons for 
me, and I think of engaging you for my amanuensis 
at a salary of twenty cents a month, with which you 
can buy no end of gumdrops. If you do not know 
what an amanuensis is, ask Agnes, and tell her I will 
bring her a present if she can spell it right the first 
time. 

Poor little Gertie ! What a terrible time she has 
had. It must have been very good for her to have 
you to take care of her, and run her errands, and play 
with her, and write her letters. I suppose that is 
the reason why you hurried so and learned to write. 
It was a great pity that I never got her letter about 
the Christmas presents, but I am very glad that you 
liked the coupe. What do you want me to bring 
you home from London? Write me another letter 
and tell me, and tell Gertie I shall be very happy 
when I get another letter from her written with her 
own little fingers. 



LONDON. 295 

I want to see jour new house, which I am sure will 
be very pretty. I wonder where you are going to be 
this summer? Now, I am going off to preach in a 
queer old church built almost a thousand years ago, 
before your father or mother was born. Give my 
love to them, and to Agnes, and to Gertie, and to the 
new doll. Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 

London, June 10, 1883. 

Dear William, — This past week has been happy 
in two letters from you. The week before I had 
none, as I remarked in my letter to Toody of last 
Sunday. That seems to have been only an ac- 
cident of the mails, and not to mean any failure of 
brotherly kindness. For the riches of this week I am 
sincerely thankful, but it was sad news that your let- 
ter brought about the death of Miss Harmon. A 
long letter from Allen came at the same time, but I 
opened yours first and so learned it from you. She 
was a good, true woman, and the amount of help 
which she has given to the poor and comfort to the 
suffering is incalculable. I have been in the habit of 
trusting so much to her of that part of the work for 
which I have not the time and am not well fitted to 
do, that I shall miss her more than I can say. Her 
place can never be filled, and how we can manage to 
get along without her I do not see at once. It was 
a hard life, but I do not know where one could see 
a more useful one 

1 have been preaching in St. Paul's to-day by invi- 
tation of the Bishop of London. It is Hospital Sun- 
day; the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs came in state, and 
there was an enormous crowd there, but it is too aw- 
fully big, bald and barren, and needs color dreadfully. 



296 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

I should ratlier have the Abbey, although it is good to 
get one chance at the great Cathedral. On Wednes- 
day I am going to another gTcat London sight. I 
am to dine with the Lord Mayor and the Lady 
Mayoress at the Mansion House, to meet the Ai-ch- 
bishop and the Bishops, — a great city dinner with 
turtle soup and all that sort of thing. It will be good 
fim. Next Sunday 1 am going to spend at T^^ells 
with Plimiptre, whom you remember, and who is now 
Dean of TTells. It is one of the prettiest cathedrals 
in England. John and I went there three years ago. 
On the 21st I am going down to the Isle of "\^^ight 
to spend a day and a night at Tennyson's. I have 
been, and am going, to a gTeat many dinners and 
receptions : everybody is very hospitable and kind, 
and it is very amusing. 

In a few weeks I shall be ready to pull up and be 
ofp for the Continent again. I am going on Tuesday 
to stay with the Bishop of Rochester, and to-morrow 
I go with him to hear the discussion on the marriage 
with the deceased wife's sister in the House of Lords. 
That is the question which now is keeping England 
excited. I have an invitation from the University at 
Cambridge to come next s]3ring in May, and preach 
three sermons before them. Do you think I could do 
it ? Give my love to everybody. 

Affectionately, P. 

Deanery, WELiiS, June IT, 1883. 
De.aji Willloi, — No letter from you the j^ast week. 
I sujDpose there are two upon their way, and I shall 
get them both in a day or two. Meanwhile, I will 
not break my habit of a weekly letter, of which I am 
quite proud, for I have kept it up without a break all 



WELLS. 297 

this year. Just think, it was a year next ^Wednesday 
that we were all huddled together on the Servia, and 
saw the last of one another in that tremendous crowd. 
It has been a delightful year, but one is not sorry to 
think that it is over, and only the last flourish of it left 
before one turns his face homeward. 

Do you remember Dean Plumptre, and the day he 
preached at Trinity ? He has gro"s\Ti older, and is now 
Dean of ^Vells, and I am staying with him ; in a few 
minutes I am going to preach for him, in one of the 
loveliest of the cathedrals. He is a true scholar and 
an interesting man. ^ His wife was a sister of the great 
theological teacher, Frederick Maurice. . . . There is 
staying here a son of Maurice's, Colonel Maurice, who 
was in South Africa at Tel El Kebir, and who is writ- 
ing his father's Life. He is a very charming person 
and makes my little visit much pleasanter than it could 
otherwise have been. Then close by lives Freeman, 
the historian, whose lectures at the Lowell Listitute 
you and I went to hear. Colonel Maurice and I are 
going to his house to dinner this evening. ... I 
dined the other day with another Lowell lecturer. 
Professor Bryce, whom we also went to hear together, 
and who is the pleasantest of men and hosts. Stop- 
ford Brooke was there, and other interesting people. 
One other evening last week I was at the Mansion 
House at the Lord Mayor's dinner to the Archbishops 
and Bishops. AVe had the city of London's famous 
turtle soup and ever so many curious customs. . . . 

Only think, I am writing in a room which the Dean 
of Wells built in 1472, in which to entertain Henry 
VII. when he was coming back from the conquest 
of Perkin Warbeck. Does n't that soimd old and 
bric-a-brac-ish ? . . . 



298 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 

Farkingford, Freshwater, 
Isle of Wight, June 22, 1883. 

Dear Mart, — Here is another place whicli seems 
interesting enough to be worthy of a few lines to 
you. Besides, it is the home of a brother, poet of 
yours, for Tennyson is sleeping somewhere downstairs, 
and that will interest you. So, as they do not have 
any breakfast until half past nine, and I am up and 
dressed at eight, here goes for a little letter. 

I came down here yesterday, a long three hours' run 
from London, through a very pretty country, passing 
Winchester cathedral and other attractive things upon 
the way. At last we crossed the Channel in a little 
cockleshell of a steamboat, and landed at Yarmouth, 
where Hallam Tennyson was waiting for me with the 
carriage. Then a pretty drive over the Downs, with 
two or three small villages upon the way, brought us, 
in about three miles, to this house. Here the great 
poet lives. He is finer than his pictures, a man of 
good six feet and over, but stooping as he walks, for 
he is seventy-four years old, and we shall stoop if we 
ever live to that age. A big dome of a head, bald on 
the forehead and the top, and very fine to look at. 
His hair, where he is not bald, an iron-gray, with 
much whiter mustache and beard, a deep bright eye, 
a grand, eagle nose, a mouth which you cannot see, a 
black felt hat, and a loose tweed suit. These were 
what I noticed in the author of " In Memoriam." 

The house is a delightful old rambling thing, whose 
geography one never learns, not elegant but very com- 
fortable, covered with pictures inside and ivies outside, 
with superb ilexes and other trees about it, and lovely 
pieces of view over the Channel here and there. 

He was just as good as he could be, and we all 



ISLE OF WIGHT, 299 

went to a place behind tlie house, where the trees 
leave a large circle, with beautiful grass, and tables 
and chairs scattered about. Here we sat down and 
talked. Tennyson was inclined to be misanthropic, 
talked about Socialism, Atheism, and another great 
catastrophe like the French Revolution coming on the 
world. He declared that if he were a Yankee, he 
would be ashamed to keep the Alabama money, but he 
let himself be contradicted about his gloomy views, and 
by and by became more cheerful. We had tea out of 
doors, took a walk for various views, then, having come 
to know me pretty well, he wanted to know if I smoked, 
and we went up to the study, a big, bright, crowded 
room, where he writes his Idyls, and there we stayed 
till dinner time. 

Dinner was very lively. Mrs. Tennyson is a dear 
old lady, a great invalid, as sweet and pathetic as a 
picture. Then there are staying here Mr. Lushing-ton, 
a great Greek scholar, a Miss B., who knows every- 
body and tells funny stories, and another Miss B., 
her pretty niece, with the loveliest smile. After 
dinner, Tennyson and I went up to the study again, 
and I had him to myself for two or three hours. We 
smoked, and he talked of metaphysics, and poetry, 
and religion, his own life, and Hallam, and all the 
poems. It was very delightful, for he was gentle, 
and reverent, and tender, and hopeful. Then we went 
down to the drawing-room, where the rest were, and 
he read his poetry to us till the clock said twelve. 
" Locksley Hall," " Sir Galahad," pieces of " Maud," 
(which he specially likes to read), and some of his 
dialect poems. He said, by the way, in reading '* Locks- 
ley Hall " that the verse beginning 

" Love took up the glass of time," etc., 



300 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

was the best simile lie ever made : and tliat and a cer- 
tain line in the " Gardener's Daughter," were the ones 
on which he most piqued himself. Just after midnight 
we came up to bed. They had the prettiest way at 
dinner of getting u]} before the fruit came and going 
into the drawing-room, where there was a fresh table 
spread by the window, looking out on the lawn and 
Channel. 

TTell, so much about Tennyson. Thanks for your 
letter, which was very good to get. . . . 

The Pkecentort, Lincoln, June 23, 1883. 
Dear T^^illia3I, — Is it not pretty hard, when I 
think I have a beautiful long letter from you, to open 
it and find nothing except some circulars ? You might 
at least have written on the back of them. ... I sent 
a photograph to G., the other day, which I hojDe she 
likes. Yesterday I came do^Ti here. Do you re- 
member Lincoln? The cathedi'al is very gorgeous, 
and the old town is quaint. Last night, the Pre- 
centor, with whom I am staying, had a dinner-party 
of the clergy, with deans, sub-deans, and canons. The 
Bishop of Lincoln was there, Wordsworth, nephew of 
the poet, a man who ought to have lived five centui'ies 
ago. He said he thought the present House of Lords 
would not last more than five years longer, and ought 
not to, because they had passed a bill allowing a man to 
marry his deceased wife's sister ! The Precentor, my 
host, is a nice old gentleman, and the place is very 
beautiful and full of association. ... I f>reached this 
morning in the cathedral, close to the place where St. 
Hugo lies buried, and took tea this afternoon with the 
sub-dean, in the room where Paley, who used to be 
sub-dean here, wrote his " Natural Theology." 



LONDON. 301 

To-morrow, I go back to London. On Wednesday, 
Paine arrives from America, and my subsequent move- 
ments will be somewliat governed by him. Indeed, 
the 12tli of SejDtember seems so near that it does not 
much matter what one does between. . . . 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
Sunday, July 1, 1883. 

Dear William, — You are forty-nine years old 
to-morrow ! Are you glad or sorry ? Almost haK a 
century, you see, and the only bother about it is that 
there is so much less remaining, for life has been very 
good, and one wishes there were more of it. I wish 
we were all going to live to be five hundred. But 
no matter! There are pleasant times still ahead, 
and we will make the most of them, so that when 
another forty-nine years are past, and you are ninety- 
eight, we shall agree that the second half has been 
even better than the first. I am all the more in a 
hurry to get home and begin the new period, now that 
you are forty-nine, seven times seven, which they say 
is the grand climacteric of life. But to-night I send 
you my heartiest God bless you, and congratulations 
upon all the past and hopes for all the future. 

I am writing in Paine's room, for he has the luxury 
of a parlor, and I use it as if it were my own. He 
arrived on Wednesday, and I was glad enough to see 
him ; since then we have talked over a thousand 
things. It is wonderfully like being at home again to 
hear so directly from you all. . . . 

I preached for Dr. Yaughan at the Temple, this 
morning. It was a noble congregation, the church 
packed with lawyers, and the service very beautiful. 
The good doctor had a long surplice made especially 



302 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

for the occasion, and presented it to me as a memento, 
so the Temple siu'plice will stand in Trinity piilj^it for 
many years. Last Simday I wrote to you from Lin- 
coln. I came back from there on Monday, and have 
had a very interesting week. There was a dinner at the 
Bishop of Carlisle's, with many interesting people, 
an evening in the House of Lords, where the bill for 
allowing marriage mth the deceased wife's sister got 
defeated, a luncheon down at Dulwich, whither I went 
with the Bishop of Eochester and Dr. Boyd of St. 
Andrew's, who wrote the " Recreations of a Country 
Parson." At luncheon I sat between Robert Brown- 
ing and Jean Ingelow, and had a delightful time. 
Then I went down to the Tower with a party of gov- 
ernment j)eople, Gladstone, and Foster, and Bright, 
and others. There was an evening party at Lady Stan- 
ley's, where I saw Browning again, and yesterday 
afternoon Newman Hall gave me a party. These and 
some other things have filled the week, and it has 
been most enjoyable. To-morrow, I am going down 
with Farrar to spend a night with a friend of his in 
the country, to meet Matthew Arnold, who lives some- 
where there. 

This afternoon, Paine and I drove out to Hamp- 
stead Heath and saw Holiday, who made his and Mr. 
Morrill's windows. The last time I saw him was 
when I went to order Paine's window, when you and I 
were in London together. How I wish you were here 
now ! Paine is deeply interested in charity organiza- 
tions, dispensaries, police stations, and all that sort of 
thing. We shall stay here probably three, certainly 
two weeks longer, and then be off for the gTeat Conti- 
nent. It has grown quite hot, and in a few weeks 
more we shall be glad to be away. There are a great 



LONDON. 303 

many Americans here. ... I watch every letter to 
hear what your plans are for the summer, and where 
you will be when I get home. Already the promise of 
autumn begins to appear. Allen has written to ask 
me to a dinner of the club on the 24th of September, 
and President Eliot wants me to take morning prayers 
at Cambridge during November. This is Commence- 
ment week. You have had Arthur and John with 
you, I suppose, and I hope that you talked about me. 

Good-by, my love to G . 

Your affectionate P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, July 8, 1883. 

Dear William, — . . . I am having a first-rate 
time, but it is all the pleasanter because it is not going 
to last forever. The Cephalonia (No. 28 is our room) 
will sail on the 12th of September. I will tell you 
what I have been doing this week. 

Monday, I went down to the country to stay with 
Mr. Leaf, a friend of Farrar's. It was a lovely place, 
with a glorious park, great trees, and a sumptuous 
house. There we passed an idle day, and in the even- 
ing had a big dinner, to which came Matthew Arnold 
and his daughter, who live close by. He was very 
amusing, and the next morning I went to breakfast 
with him, saw his wife, his house and study, and liked 
him very much. He has promised to stay with me 
when he comes to Boston. 

On Tuesday, I came back to town, and we had a 
pleasant dinner party that night at the house of a Mr. 
Mills. After that was over, I went to one of Mrs. 
Gladstone's receptions, to which I was invited to see 
the Grand Old Man ; he had to go to the House 
of Commons, and so I did not see him ; but I am 



304 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

going there again next Tuesday. Wednesday was the 
4th of July, which we celebrated by calling on the 
American minister. Thursday was speech day at 
Harrow School, and Paine and I went. I was there 
with John three years ago, and was glad to go again. 
The boys spoke well, and it was very bright and quite 
like Class Day. Then we had a luncheon, where Lord 
Dujfferin and I made speeches. When I came back I 
went to dinner at Lady Frances Baillie's, the sister of 
Dean Stanley's wife. It was very pleasant. We had 
Grove, and Robert Browning, and the Bishop of Litch- 
field; and my companion was Mrs. Ritchie (Thack- 
eray's daughter), who wrote "The Village on the 
Cliff" and all those nice novels, and who told me a 
great deal about her father. Friday, I went to Rich- 
mond and saw the prettiest view in England, and in 
the evening dined with the Precentor at the Abbey. 
After dinner, we went into the Abbey and strolled 
about in the dark, with wonderfully pretty effects in 
the great arches. Saturday, I went to a garden party 
at Fulham Palace, the Bishop of London's, where 
there were many clergymen, and in the evening ten 
miles out of town to Upper Tooting, where I dined 
with Mr. Macmillan, the publisher. 

Have you read "John Inglesant " ? Mr. Short- 
house, the man who wrote it, was the principal gniest, and 
there were a great many agreeable people. This morn- 
ing, we went to the Foundling Hospital and heard the 
children sing, so the week has gone with a good deal 
of sight-seeing to fill up the gaps. Everybody is hospi- 
table and kind, and it would be pleasant to stay here 
a long time ; but our departure now is definitely fijced 
for the 19th, when we shall go somewhere on the Con- 
tinent. We do not yet know where, or I would tell 



LONDON. 305 

you, but no doubt our uncertainty will solve itself in 
the course of the next week, and by next Sunday I can 
tell you something of our summer's route. All the 
time, while our weather here is delightful, you are 
sweltering in heat. This morning's paper says the 
heat in New York yesterday was terrible. I am awfully 
sorry for you. Do take a steamer and come over, you 
and the total family, and we will lie upon the grass 
in Hyde Park together till you all get cool. . . . 
God bless you all always. P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
July 10, 1883. 

My Dear Gertie, — ... I wish you were here, 
for it is beautifully fresh and cool, and we would go off 
and see some kind of pretty things. I went down into 
the country the other day, and saw some people whom 
I met on the journey home from India. It was the 
prettiest place, and you would have enjoyed it ever so 
much. 

They had the biggest strawberries you ever saw, and 
you would have enjoyed picking them a great deal 
more than I did. I wish strawberries grew on trees. 
They would be so much easier to pick. There was a 
nice little girl there who was a great friend of mine 
on the voyage. Her name is Nora, and she gave me 
her photograph. I think I will put it into this letter, 
so that you can see what an English child looks like, 
only you must keep it safe and give it to me when I get 
to Boston, for I told Nora Buchanan that I should 
keep it till I saw her again. Her father has a tea 
plantation up in the Himalaya Mountains, and her 
mother and she go there every winter. She has got a 
pony named Brownie, and a big dog and a little dog, 
and lots of pets. 



306 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

When we get to living up in tlie old house at An- 
dover, we will have some dogs too, and perhaps some 
day we will get a pony for you to ride on ; or would 
you rather have a donkey with long ears, and a 
delightful little cart to drive in ? What did you do 
on the 4th of July ? The people here seemed to think 
that it was just like any other day ; nobody was firing 
crackers, or blowing soap bubbles, and there were no 
American flags flying anywhere ; but one day, two 
weeks ago, London was greatly excited, it being the 
Queen's Coronation Day, and I met the Lord Mayor 
in his coach, with a red cloak on and a big gold chain 
around his neck. I thank you so much for your little 
note, and for the picture of yourseK, which is set up 
in my room. You must write to me again when 
you can, and I will see you in September. By that 
time you must be well and fat and rosy. Now good- 
by. My love to Agnes and Toodie. 

Your loving uncle, P. 

Westminster Paiace Hotel, July 15, 1883. 

Dear William, — . . . On Thursday next, the 
19th, we leave England. We had to fix some certain 
day and hold to it, or we should have never got away. 
We go first through France into the Pyrenees, where 
we shall get a little journey, just enough to see what 
they are like, and then by interesting routes, more 
or less out of the way, into the Tyrol through Swit- 
zerland. Next Sunday, July 22, we probably shall 
spend at Bagneres de Luchon, pretty near the Spanish 
border. I am sorry to leave London, and never shall 
forget my two months here. It has been great fun, 
and the hospitality of everybody has been most 
abundant. The last week has been busy socially. 



LONDON. 307 

The pleasantest evening, perhaps, was Tuesday at Mr. 
Gladstone's, where I had a good sight of and talk with 
the great man, and gazed at a multitude of splendid 
folks with diamonds and titles. He is certainly the 
greatest man in England, and the look of him is quite 
worthy of his fame. Another evening I dined in the 
Jerusalem Chamber with the Dean and Chapter of the 
Abbey, and the members of their choir. That was 
very jolly, and recalled the time eight years ago when 
I went to the same dinner and sat by Stanley's side. 
This morning I am going to preach for Llewellyn 
Davis, whom you and I once went to hear in St. Paul's. 
He is a most interesting man and one of the best 
spirits in the English Church. This will be my last 
sermon in England. Mr. Macmillan has asked me to 
publish the sermons which I have preached here, un- 
der the title " Sermons Preached to English Congre- 
gations," and I have about made up my mind to do so. 
He is the publisher of my last volume. This one will 
have thirteen sermons, and be a pleasant memento of 
my English visit. I have declined the invitation to 
come and preach at Cambridge next spring, but they 
have intimated that it will be repeated some other 
year, and then I should like to come and make a uni- 
versity visit. I have seen nothing of the imiversities 
this time. 

I want to see you all dreadfully. ... P. 

London, July 15, 1883. 
My dear Hattie, ^ — It was most kind of you to 
take up the pen which your husband had so long- 
dropped, and write me the pleasant letter which I 
got last week, and it seems that its quiet rebuke was 
felt, for John wrote the next day. Behold the noble 

1 A sister-in-law. 



308 A YEAR AY EUROPE AND IXDIA. 

influence of a good wife ! . . * Xow I think of you as 
having tlie happiest of summers in your seashore home. 
As I listen Marionwards, I hear a rich, low sound of 
which I am not quite sure whether it is the moaning 
of the sea, as it beats on your back doorstep, or the 

theological discussions of B , P , and J 

imder the haystack. Either sound woidd be delight- 
fid. To have them both together in your ears all day 
must be a little heaven below, and it must be all the 
pleasanter to you this year, because you can look 
back to such a bright, successful winter in Springfield, 
and look forward to another, which will no doubt 
be still better. I am so thankfid to hear of the way 
in which every difficulty has disappeared. ... I wish 
I coidd hope to run to Marion this autumn, and see 
you on your own rocks, with your young barbarians at 
jDlay about you. But I shall be home too late, and 
dear me I I sometimes j^l^^santly shiver in the midst 
of this delishtf ul idleness at the thouoht of how much 
there is to do next winter. It is like thinking of 
January in Jidy. But, fortunately, less and less de- 
pends on us, and the yoimger clergy, who read Second 
Lessons at the Diocesan Convention, have the brunt 
of the battle. 

Give my tenderest love to yoiu' young clergyman. 
Tell Mm I thank hioi heartily for his letter. Be sure 
that I thank vou sincerely for yoiu'S. Kiss the babies 
for me, and remember that I am always, 

Affectionately, P. 

Pau. Sunday. July 22. 18S3. 
Deae William, — The curtain has fallen and risen 
again; the whole scene has changed. London, with 
all its fun, is far away, and here we are close to the 



PAU. 309 

Pyrenees. It is deliglitfiilly cool and pleasant, and 
tlie view out of my window is wonderfidly beautiful. 
I have time enough to look at it, for I am laid up 
with a lame leg. On the way from Chartres to Bor- 
deaux I struck my leg in leaving the railway coach, 
and this morning I sent for a French doctor, who bade 
me lie still to-day. So here I am, writing, like M., on 
a book instead of a table. The queer little doctor 
assures me that it will be all right to-morrow morning, 
and then we shall push on up to Eaux Bonnes. It is 
only a bruise, I believe. Paine is as kind as kind can 
be, and does everything for me, and we are having a 
delightful time. Just now he has gone out to see the 
town, and I am trying to write in this miserable way 
upon my back. 

I am busy getting my volume of sermons ready for 
Macmillan. Seven of them are finished, and there 
will be seven more. The volume will be called " Ser- 
mons Preached in English Churches," and will be 
dedicated " To many friends in England, in remem- 
brance of their cordial welcome." I never can forsret 
how hospitable English people were. I counted up, 
before I left London, sixty separate occasions on which 
I had been entertained, and at almost all I had seen 
interesting people. We left London last Thursday 
morning. 

. . . We came through that night to Chartres, 
which Paine had never seen, and the next night to 
Bordeaux, and yesterday here. I have been buying 
a lot of books in London, and just before I left, Mac- 
millan kindly undertook to have them packed and sent 
to your care. There will be one or two big boxes of 
them. Will you see to them when they arrive, and 
have them sent to my house? They are all for my 



310 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

own use, mostly theological books, and ought to pass 
as tools of trade. Of course, if they must pay duty, 
you will pay it for me. They have been bought so 
miscellaneously in many places, one here and another 
there, that I cannot say just what they have cost, but 
it is about |800 or $900. You must do what you 
think best about it, and I hope it will not give you a 
great deal of trouble. . . . 

Yours affectionately, P. 

Bagneres de Luc90n, 
Sunday, July 29, 1883. 

Dear William, — ... We have had a splendid 
Pyrenean week. Great mountains with snowy sides, 
beautiful rich valleys, wild ravines, quaint villages, a 
handsome, happy people, and bright skies, — anybody 
ought to look back with pleasure on a whole week of 
these. It is not exactly like any other country which 
I know. Perhaps it is more like some parts of the 
Tyrol than anything else. It reminds me at times of 
some parts of the road up the valley of the Inn, which 
you and I drove up together once. There is a luxuri- 
ance about these valleys, of which I hardly ever saw 
the like. The way they overrun with water is delicious. 
You are never away from the sound of a brook or 
a waterfall. Streams run by the side of every road. 
There are fountains in every man's back yard, every 
bank has a small cascade tumbling over it, and all the 
rocks look as if Moses had been about here with 
his rod, striking out right and left. Last night the 
abundance of waters culminated in a drenching rain, 
and we reached here in the midst of floods. This 
morning all is bright as Paradise. It is a garden of 
a place, way up in the hills, and the Frenchmen have 



BAGNERES DE LUCHON. 311 

made a pretty summer resort of it. I am still a little 
lame, and am lying by to get well. The week's travel- 
ing has not given me much chance to repair my leg, 
and I hope my conversation has been better than my 
walk. Taking pity on my imprisonment, the band 
came this morning and played under my window, and 
the Frenchmen and Frenchwomen strolled up and 
down, and the sun shone, and it was like a sort of 
Class Day up in the Pyrenees on Sunday. It is as 
pretty as a picture. 

There was a great deal grander place which we saw 
the other day at Gavarnie, where a wild valley pierces 
into the hills until it brings up against a tremendous 
wall of rock in a great amphitheatre, and has to stop 
because it can get no farther. It is like a splendid 
end of the world. You can only guess what lies on 
the other side of the rocks, heaven or hell. Really, 
it is Spain, which is a little of both. Out of the side 
of the high wall leaps a cascade, 1300 feet high, and 
tumbles down into a caldron of mist and foam. It 
is a wonderful place. 

Last Wednesday morning we were at Lourdes, one of 
the strangest places in the world, and suggestive of all 
sorts of thoughts and questions. It was here that al- 
most thirty years ago a little girl saw the Virgin Mary 
standing in a grotto, and a spring burst out which 
since that has been curing hosts of sick people, who 
have come from the ends of the earth. Now there is 
a gorgeous church there, crowds of worshipers, a hun- 
dred thousand pilgrims yearly, and a heap of disused 
crutches and camp stools, which the cured have left 
behind them. The street through the town is one 
long market of crosses, and pictures, and rosaries, and 
statuettes of Mary. The whole was wonderfully like 



312 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

the street whicli leads down to the Ganges at Benares, 
with its booths full of brass images of Yishnu, Siva, 
Ganesha, and Kali. 

To-morrow we shall be off to Toulouse, and then by 
the Grande Chartreuse to Geneva, where w^e spend 
next Sunday. . . . 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Hotel de ia Paix, Geneva, 
AtigTist 5, 1883. 

Dear William. — Yesterday I received your let- 
ter of July 23, which gave me the greatest anxiety 

about poor little G . It is very hard indeed that 

she should have had a relapse, and lost something of 
the hard-won ground. I hate to think how she must 
have suffered this long winter and spring. My com- 
fort is, that the news is two weeks old, and before 
this she must be in Sharon, which is to be the foun- 
tain of life to her. If I believed all tlie wonderful 
stories of what it does, I shoidd send you a bottle of 
the miraculous water of Lourdes, and we would be 
grateful worshipers of the Virgin for all the good that 
it might do the dear little thing. I shall not do that, 
but I shall be very anxious until, next Sunday at 
Interlaken, I hear of your reaching Sharon and what 
are the results. 

Do you remember this hotel, and the forenoon 
which we spent at Geneva ? It is as bright as ever, 
and the lake this Sunday morning is shining like a 
monstrous jewel. Do you remember how we talked 
about the Grande Chartreuse and the possibility of 
getting there, but finally concluded that it was too 
remote and took the train for Basle and Strasburg 
instead ? We came out of the Pyrenees by Toulouse 



GENEVA, 313 

and Nimes, and spent last Friday niglit up at the 
Grande Chartreuse. Arthur and Lizzie went there 
last year. Whether they spent the night or not I do 
not know. The drive up to the wonderful old nest of 
the monks is very fine. Most splendid valleys, at first 
open and broad and bathed in sunshine, and then 
gro^dng narrower and wilder, until they were nothing 
but woody gorges ; and finally opening into the little 
plateau on which the monastery buildings stand and 
seem to fill the whole place from one mountain side 
to the other. 

There are about forty fathers there, Carthusians, 
in their picturesque white cloaks and cowls. Solitude 
and silence is their rule. They spend the bulk of the 
time in their cells, where they are supposed to be med- 
itating. I suspect that the old gentlemen go to sleep. 
There was a strange, ghostly service, which began at 
a quarter before eleven o'clock at night and lasted 
until two in the morning. The chapel was dim and 
misty, the white figaires came gliding in and sat in a 
long row, and held dark lanterns up before their psal- 
ters and chanted away at their psalms like a long row 
of singing mummies. It made you want to run out in 
the yard and have a game of ball to break the spell. 
Instead of that, after watching it for half an hour, we 
crept back along a vast corridor to the cells which 
had been allotted us, each with its priedieu and its 
crucifix, and went to bed in the hardest, shortest, 
and lumpiest of beds. In the morning a good deal of 
the romance and a^^ulness was gone, but it was very 
fine and interesting, and the drive down into the valley 
on the other side at Chambery was as pretty as a whole 
gallery of pictures. Thence we came by rail, and 
reached here Friday night. 



3U A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

Yesterday we drove out to Ferney and saw wliere 
Voltaire used to live ; looked at the bed in whicli he 
used to sleep and at the church which he built. It 
has over its front door perhaps the strangest of all 
strange inscriptions which men have carved on 
churches, — 

" Deo Erexit Voltaire." 

Here we fall into the tide of travel ao'ain, and 
Americans abound. The Suters are all here. I shall 
preach to them in the American church this morning, 
and I shall find myself looking for you and your 
family two pews behind them. Richard Weld and 
his wife and sons are also here, and a lot of other 
Americans whom I never saw, but feel as if I had 
seen every day of my life. . . . Seven weeks from to- 
day I preach in Trinity. . . . 

MtTKKEN'. August 12, 1883. 
Dear TVilliam, — I went to church this morning 
in a little thing which the preacher declared to be the 
most splendidly situated church in Christendom, and 
I rather think he was right. Do you remember when 
we were at Interlaken and went over to Grindelwald, 
how after it stojDped raining we climbed uj) to the 
T\"engern-Alp and looked the Jungfrau in the face ? 
On the other side of the Lauterbriuinen Valley, into 
which we descended that day, stands the gTcat hill upon 
whose top is Miirren. We came here yesterday after- 
noon, and such a Sunday as this was hardly ever seen. 
From extreme right to extreme left was one imbroken 
range of the very highest of snowy peaks, and all day 
they have been superbly clear. I remember one Sun- 
day, with a fellow up on the Gornergrat, which must 



MiJRREN. 315 

have been about as fine. Finer Sundays than those 
two, nobody ever had anywhere. 

There are a multitude of English and German 
people here, but so far as I have learned, R. T. Paine, 
Jr., and I are the only Americans. The preacher 
this morning was an old English friend. Dr. Butler, 
the master of Harrow School, and he is the only person 
whom I ever saw before. But that is all the better, 
for one has nothing to do but stare at the hills. 1 saw 
the first sunlight strike them at half past four this 
morning. Besides staring at them, I have been en- 
gaged to-day in reading my own sermons. Half the 
proof of the new volume reached me from Macmillan 
yesterday, and I have read the interesting discourses 
through to-day. I hope the public will not get so 
tired of them as I have. 

To-morrow we go down again to Interlaken, then to 
Lucerne, over that Brunig Pass where you and I drove 
once in the dust, thence through the new St. Gotthard 
tunnel to lake Como, and then a journey by a back 
road through northern Italy, coming out in the Dolo- 
mites and working back to Paris by Munich. We 
shall be in Paris about the 5th of September, and six 
weeks from to-day I preach in Trinity. 

. . . Tell G. I shall expect her to come and make 
me a visit just as soon as the old house gets to rights 
again. I will feed her up and get her well, show her 
all the pretty things I have bought, and give her a lot 
of the prettiest for her ownty-donty. How I wish you 
were all here this afternoon, with John, Arthur, and 
their families. Perhaps we can get up a great as- 
sembly at Andover next summer. I am hoping for a 
letter from you to-morrow at Interlaken. I am glad 
the Andover window is done and is so satisfactory. I 
am eager to see it. There goes an avalanche. . . . 



316 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

MuRREN, August 13, 1883. 

My dear Lizzie, — I am not quite sure whether I 
owe you a letter, or you owe me one. I rather think 
our last letters crossed upon the road, and that always 
leaves a doubt. I imagine that a good many corre- 
spondences have died that way. But ours shall not. 
I will write to you anyhow, and show you that I am 
not mean. You have been at Miirren, have n't you ? 
and can anything be finer than this Biger and Monch 
and Grosshorn and Breithorn and Mittaghorn? We 
have spent two whole days up here, reading novels and 
staring at the hills. Each morning at half past four 
we have seen the first sunlight strike the peaks, and 
all day the sky has been cloudless. Now we are going 
to turn our backs upon it and walk down to Lauter- 
brunnen. Every step now seems a step homeward, 
for six weeks from yesterday I am going to preach in 
Trinity again. It will seem strange to stand at that 
little desk once more. I shall crawl back before 
the people return to town, and when they come, full 
of the recollections of the splendors of last winter, 
they will find only me. But I shall enjoy it if they 
don't, and then the old life will begin again. There 
will be some changes, but it is good to know that I 
shall find you and Arthur just as I left you, only 
I want to see the new church and enjoy it, as I know 
I shall. . . . 

. . . And where are you? Roaming along the 
shores of Grand Menan, or reveling like Sybarites in 
the luxurious life of "up the river." . . . You will 
come on to the General Convention and look at us, 
while we are sitting in the great assembly, will you 
not ? And on the way there and back, I shall steal 
quiet evenings for logomachy and talk in the Madi- 



TRENTO. 317 

son Avenue hermitage. How nice and familiar it all 
sounds, and it is almost here. Will you not meet us 
in Brussels, where we parted, and we will peel off 
sticky photographs for an evening, and then come home 
together. My love to Arthur. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Trento, Sunday, August 19, 1883. 

Dear Geetie, — I bought the prettiest thing you 
ever saw for you the other day. If you were to guess 
for three weeks, making two guesses every minute, you 
could not guess what it is. I shall not tell you, 
because I want you to be all surprised to pieces when 
you see it, and I am so impatient to give it to you 
that I can hardly wait. Only you must be in a great 
hurry and get well, because you see it is only five 
weeks from to-day that I shall expect to see you in the 
dear old study in Clarendon Street, where we have 
had such a lot of good times together before now. 
Just think of it ! We '11 set the music box a-going, 
and light all the gaslights in the house, and get my 
doll out of her cupboard, and dress Tood up in a 
red pocket handkerchief and stand her up on the 
study table, and make her give three cheers ! And 
we '11 have some gingerbread and lemonade. 

I 've got a lot of things for you besides the one 
which I bought for you the other day. You could n't 
guess what it is if you were to guess forever, but this 
is the best of all, and when you see it you will jump 
the rheumatism right out of you. I hope you will be 
quite well by that time. What sort of a place is 
Sharon ? Do not write to me about it, but tell me all 
about it when I see you. What a lot you will have 
to tell. You can tell me what was in that Christ- 



318 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

mas letter wliich the wicked mail-man never brought 
to me. 

Good-b}', dear little girl. Don't you wish you knew 
what it was that I bought for you the other day? 
Give my love to Agnes and Tood. 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Trento, August 19, 1883. 

Dear Mahy, — I have come to another place which 
seems to justify a letter to you. Three hundred and 
twenty-eight jesivs ago, a lot of clergymen climbed up 
here into the mountains and held the Council of Trent, 
and fixed forever the Church of Rome. Last night 
Paine and I arrived here in the traiu, and are holding 
our council now in the Hotel de Trento. This morn- 
ing we went to the old church in wliich the Council 
sat, and there we listened to a sermon which we did 
not understand, looked at a crowded congregation of 
people (as different from that which meets in Trinity 
as anybody can imagine), and wondered how the old 
church looked when the Bishops and Archbishops 
were sitting there in council three hundred and 
twenty-eight years ago. 

Just in front of me was a poor old weather-beaten 
lady, who went fast asleep in the sermon time and 
woke up beautifidly refreshed when it was over. I 
rather think the sleep did her more good than the 
sermon would have done, for she looked as if she had 
been overworked ever since she was a baby, and that 
was long ago. On the walls hung a picture of the 
Council, and after service we went off to the other 
church, where is the crucifix before which all the 
Tridentine Fathers, when their long work was over, 
said their prayers. How modern it makes our 



INNSBRUCK. 319 

General Convention of this autumn look, and yet it is 
the modern things that are of more interest to us than 
all the old ones ; and more important to me to-day, 
a great deal, than the Council of Trent is poor little 
G.'s chamber at Sharon. 1 wonder whether, in the 
two weeks since she went there, the waters have done 
her good. 1 cannot tell you how anxious I am, or 
how, getting the news only once a week, 1 wait in 
suspense to hear what the blue envelopes will bring 
which the Barings send to meet us. If 1 were at 
home, I would take the train to Sharon and see what 
sort of a nurse 1 should make for the dear little wo- 
man. At least 1 could know how it fared with her, 
and perhaps you would not mind having me about, 
and if 1 were very much in the way I could go out 
and smoke my cigar behind the house. But it is not 
long now. Five weeks from to-day 1 shall be in the 
old place again. I will not think of anything else 
than that then you will be back from Sharon, with G. 
vastly better for it, and the new house as lively as a 
summer's day. And then what a winter we will have. 
There goes the church-bell again ! They are going 
to have another meeting in the Council church, but I 
shall stay at home and write my letters. To-morrow 
morning a carriage will start with us for a three days' 
drive through the glorious Dolomites, and next Sunday 
I shall hear at Wildbad-Gastein how you all are. . . . 

Tykoler Hof, Innsbruck, 

August 26, 1883. 

Dear William, — ... We ordered letters sent 
to Bad Gastein, but when we reached Innsbruck (you 
remember Innsbruck) we found there was to be to-day 
a Passion Play at Brixlegg, a little village only an 



320 A YEAR IX EUROPE ASD INDIA. 

hour from here, and we determined to stop over. "We 
have spent the whole Sunday there, and it has been a 
wonderfully interesting day. Thirteen years ago 1 
started for Ober-Ammergau, and the Franco-Prussian 
war stopped the play before I reached there. This 
Brixlegg play is Ober-Ammergau on a small scale and 
in rather a more primitive fashion. The whole story 
of Clmst's Passion, from the Entry into Jerusalem to 
the Resurrection, is acted by the peasants in the most 
devout fashion, and with a power and feeling that are 
very wonderful. It occupies about five hours, with 
an intermission of an hoiu' and a half in the midst. It 
is given in a rude barn-like building, set up for the 
2)ui'pose, with cuiious quaint scenery, and most effec- 
tive tableaux. It is a good thing to see once, for 
it is a rare remnant of what was common in the 
Middle Ages, and furnishes a remarkable study of 
the character of the peo^^le to whom such a thing is 
a possibility. . . . 

I will tell you all about this when I get home, if you 
want to hear. Innsbruck looks just as it did when 
vou and I drove out of it five years ao^o on the way 
to the Stelvio. The big moimtain still thi'ows its 
shadow down the Theresien Sti^asse, and the wonderful 
bronze people stand around Maximilian's tomb in the 
Hof Kir die. But only think. The railway runs all 
the way to Imst, and the steam whistle has vulgarized 
the lovely valley. Are vou not o'lad we went there 
first ? Perhaps it has improved the Imst Hotel I 

This last week I thought of you at the first sight of 
the Inn Valley, but up to that time we were in the 
Dolomites, where the associations were rather with 
Arthur, who traveled there with me in the early days, 
before you and I were fellow-travelers. 



INNSBRUCK. 321 

To-morrow we are off for Bad Gastein, and then 
come Isclil, Salzburg, and next Sunday, Munich ; then, 
Paris and London. Two weeks from next Wednes- 
day we set sail. So I shall send you only one more 
letter. But I shall hear from you, and I will thank 
you ever so much if you telegraph me just one word 
to the Cephalonia at Queenstown upon the 12th. Four 
weeks from tonight, perhaps we shall be smoking to- 
gether in the rectory. . . . 

Innsbruck, August 26, 1883. 

Dear Geetie, — How I envy the little Tyrolese 
girls their health and strength to-day ! I wanted to steal 
half of it, and send it home in a box to you. They 
never would have missed it, for they have a great deal 
more health than they know what to do with. Their 
cheeks are as red as the sunset, and they look as if 
they never heard of such a thing as rheumatism ! But 
never mind, I am coming home soon now, and you 
will forget all about this ugly winter. 

I have been seeing the people in a little village to- 
day act a part of the New Testament story. A lot of 
the children took part in it, and I send you a photo- 
graph of one of them, a little girl who walked in the 
procession which came with Jesus into Jerusalem on 
Palm Sunday. She was a cunning little thing, and 
carried her palm branch as you see, and cried, " Ho- 
sanna ! " as she walked along. I wish you had been 
there to see her. 

Was it not funny that I should hear about you on 
the street at Innsbruck ? You see how famous you are 
and how people know about you all over the world. 
The person who knew about you here was Miss Wales, 
who came out of a shop last Friday afternoon just as 



322 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

we were going in. She looked just like a slice out of 
old Boston, and she had some letters from home about 
your visit to Sharon, or perhaps she saw it in the 
papers ! 

I wonder if you will be back when I get home, and 
I wonder if you will be glad to see me ! I got you an- 
other present the other day, but you couldn't guess 
what that is either. Good-by ! Get well ! And give 
my love to Agnes and Tood. I think of you a great 
deal. Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Munich, September 2, 1883. 

Dear Gertie — When I came away, the first man 
that wrote me a letter only two days after the Servia 
had steamed out of New York Bay was you. And now 
that I am coming home, the last letter which I write 
from the Old World to any man in America shall be 
to you. For I want to tell you myself that I shall see 
you on September 22. I suppose you will not be quite 
able to run over to the wharf at East Boston when 
the Cephalonia gets in, but I shall come up to see 
you just as soon as the custom house people let me out 
of prison, after I have paid the duties upon all the 
heaps of presents I have got for you ! 

Was n't it good that the baths at Sharon helped you 
so much ? I was at a place the other day where the 
people take baths for rheumatism. It is called Bad 
Gastein, but it is n't bad at all ; it is very good. It is 
away back in the hills, and there 's a tremendous water- 
fall which runs right through the house, and keeps up 
such a racket that you can't get any sleep. But that 
does no great harm, because you have to take your 
bath so early that, if it were not for the waterfall in 
the next room, you would sleep over and never get 



MUNICH. 323 

your bath at all, and so some time you might have the 
rheumatism all yoiu' life. I didn't have any rheu- 
matism, so I went and took a bath for yours, and I 
rather think that is what made you feel so much 
better. You thought it was the baths you were tak- 
ing at Sharon, but it was really the bath I was taking 
at Bad Gastein ! 

I wonder how soon you will come and see me when 
I get back. Everybody here eats his breakfast, and 
limcheon, and dinner outdoors. I like it, and think 
I shall do so myself when I get home ; so when you 
come to breakfast, we will have our table out on the 
grass plot in Newbury Street, and Katie shall bring 
us our beefsteak there. Will it not make the children 
stare as they go by to school ? We '11 toss the crumbs 
to them and the robins. But you must hurry and get 
well, or we cannot do all this. My love to Agnes and 
Tood. Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Hotel Baiekischer Hof, Mukich, 
September 2, 1883. 

Dear Willia^i, — ... This last day of home writ- 
ing makes me feel queer. I wonder whether it is really 
true that thi'ee weeks from to-day I am to preach in 
Trinity. I wonder whether I shall really look so old 
and thin that people will not know me. I wonder 
whether those heathen are still chattering and chaffer- 
ing in the Chandni-Chauk at Delhi. I wonder whether 
I have really got enough benefit out of all this pleas- 
ant year to make it worth while to hav^e come. This 
last wonder is the hardest of all. Sometimes I tliink 
I have, and then again I do not know. At any rate I 
shall try, and if I find when I begin to preach that 
I am really as idiotic as I sometimes seem to myself, 



324 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 

there are several little hidden nooks in Europe wMch 
I know, where I can go and hide my disgrace, and 
nobody will hear of me any more forever. But per- 
haps it will not come to that. . . . 

Why cannot you make use of my house this autumn, 
until your own is thoroughly dry and safe ? Pray do 
not think of going into it. You must not let G. run 
the slightest danger of a relapse. Nothing would give 
me greater pleasure than to find you all in Clarendon 
Street. On my return, on the 2d of October, I go 
to Philadelphia ; shall practically be absent all that 
month, and you can have free swing. So pray do go 
there, and please me. 

You remember this hotel and the bright, pretty 
city. . . . But what 's the use of writing, when I shall 
be at home a week after you get this. My last letter. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! My final love ; I am coming 
home. 

Affectionately, P. 



ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

1885. 

Steamship Etrukia, May 15, 1885. 

My dear Gertie, — This letter will show 3^011 that 
I have got safely over to Queenstown. The people 
are just finishing their breakfasts in the cabin, that is, 
the lazy ones who have come up late from their state- 
rooms. 

I had my breakfast two hours ago, and have been 
walking up and down the deck since then. There are 
a lot of people up there, among them a good many 
children. Some very nice-looking boys ! Everybody 
seems to have had a pleasant voyage. There has been 
no storm, and most of the time the water has been as 
quiet as a bath tub. On Sunday it was a little rough. 
The Doctor read service, and we had no sermon, be- 
cause the people wanted to get on deck again. 

I received the letter which you all wrote to me. I 
found it on the table in the cabin, just after the 
steamer sailed. It was very good of you to write, and 
it made a very pleasant last good-by, after uncle 
Arthur had left me on deck, and I thought I should 
not see or hear from anybody I knew, at least for a 
whole week. 

... I wish you were here ! We would go to walk 
on the deck and see the people play shuffleboard, then 
we would find a quiet place behind the smokestack 
and sit down and smoke. I suppose you are getting 



326 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

ready to go up to North Andover. Do take good care 
of " Tom," and do not let tlie pony bully him. . . . 
When you get this, think o£ me in London having a 
beautiful time . . . Ever and ever 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 

May 21, 1885. 

Dear William, — Here it is, begun all over again 
in the old fashion. The old hotel, the same dingy 
outlook from the windows, and the same chimes from 
the Abbey bells every quarter of an hour ! We 
reached here yesterday afternoon at the end of our 
fourth day on shore. The voyage was very swift, 
pleasant, and uneventful. The Etruria is a superb 
ship, rather inclined to roll, when there seems to be no 
reason for it, but going through the water at a tre- 
mendous rate. . . . The only celebrity on board was 
Mr. Froude, who kept very much to his stateroom and 
was hardly seen. I am afraid the great historian was 
ill. We landed on Sunday morning at Liverpool, and 
I went to church, and saw and heard Bishop Ryle. 
Monday we spent in Chester, and went out to the 
Duke of Westminster's place, Eaton Hall, and also 
to Mr. Gladstone's Hawarden Castle. Neither of the 
great men was at home, but we looked at their houses. 
. . . Then we came on to Leamington, and saw War- 
wick Castle, Kenilworth, and Stratford-on-Avon, and 
then here. 

I saw Archdeacon Farrar yesterday afternoon, and 
found him well. I am to dine with him on Saturday 
to meet Bro^\Tiing and Lowell and Arnold, and the 
new Bishop of London, Dr. Temple. I saw my god- 
son, who is staying with his grandfather, in the absence 



LONDON. 327 

of Ills parents from London for a few days. He is a 
round, fat, English baby. 



Friday Morning, May 22. 

Yesterday was a busy London day, and I did not 
finish my letter. Now it shall go to tell you that I 
am well and happy. Think of me on the 31st of May 
at Oxford; on the 7th of June at Harrow in the 
morning, and in Westminster Abbey in the evening ; 
on the 14th of June at Cambridge. I will think 
of you all getting ready for North Andover, and 
by and by going there, and having, I hope, a lovely 
summer. Already I am beginning to think how good 
next summer will be when we are all there together, 
and " Tom " has grown to his maturity, and the old 
place has really come to look and feel as if it had be- 
gun a new life for our generation. . . . 

I have not heard from you yet, though I got two 
letters forwarded by you and mailed the day we sailed. 
Not a bit of excitement here, apparently, about war or 
cholera, but both subjects quietly and very seriously 
talked about. Good-by, and my best love to all of 
you. May you be kept safe and happy. 

Affectionately, P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 

May 29, 1885. 

Dear Gertie, — I received your note and Toodie's 
early this week, and to-night comes your father's to 
tell me that you were thinking of me as late as the 
15th of May. I believe you are thinking of me still. 
Certainly I am thinking of you, and hoping you are 
all well and doing all sorts of delightful things. It 



328 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

does not seem as if it could be only three weeks this 
morning that I said good-by to yon and took the train 
for New York. But it is, and I have been in Lon- 
don now more than a week. What have I done ? 
Let me see. Last Sunday morning I preached at St. 
Margaret's in the forenoon.; in the afternoon went to 
St. Paul's Cathedral, and heard Canon Scott Holland. 
. . . Monday we went to Windsor Castle, but it was 
rainy, and besides that it was " Bank Holiday," so 
there was a tremendous crowd, and we did not see 
very much. Tuesday I went down to the Bishop of 
Rochester's and spent the night, and it was very pleas- 
ant. He has a great big house and park, and every- 
thing very complete and pretty. It was a lovely day, 
the hawthorns were just blooming, and the grass and 
old trees were lovely. . . . 

On Wednesday I went to a big dinner-party, and I 
had a very good time. Thursday I went down to the 
country and spent the day with some nice people who 
live in an old manor house, in a place called Chig- 
well. There is a school-house there where William 
Penn used to go to school, before he founded Penn- 
sylvania, and there are many other interesting things. 
To-day we have had a long drive to Hampton Court, 
Richmond, and Kew, and seen no end of queer and 
delightful sights ; and now to-night I am writing to 
you, so you see I am very busy. To-morrow I go to 
Oxford, where I spend three days, seeing the univer- 
sity and looking at all the great men. It has been 
cold and bleak, but now the weather is getting bright 
and warm, and the country is prettier than anything 
you ever saw, except North Andover. 

I have not seen Nora Buchanan, but I saw her mo- 
ther, the other day. Nora had gone to school, and 



LONDON. 329 

was very well. I wonder when you are going to 
North Andover. You must tell me when you write 
again, so that I can think of your getting settled and 
feel what a good time you are having. Remember 
that the corn-barn belongs to you, and you must be 
the mistress there. But do let S. and A. come in 
when they want to. Give them my love, and also to 
your father and mother. Do not foi^et that I am 
Your affectionate uncle, P. 

London, June 5, 1885. 

Dear William, — ... Saturday I went to Ox- 
ford and stayed at the Vice-Chancellor's, Dr. Jow- 
ett's. Other people were staying there, and it was 
very bright and pleasant. On Sunday afternoon I 
preached the university sermon in St. Mary's Church. 
. . . The service was at two o'clock, an hour when I 
think nobody ever went to church before. Four men 
came to the Vice-Chancellor's house, and Dr. Jowett 
and I fell in behind them, and they escorted us along 
the street as far as the church. When we reached the 
church, another man took us in charge and brought us 
to the foot of the pulj)it stairs, where the Vice-Chan- 
cellor and I solemnly bowed to one another, and he 
went up into his throne and I went up into the pulpit. 
Then I preached. ... I spent the next two days in 
Oxford, and had a lovely time, going to all sorts of 
meetings, dining with the dons, seeing the men I 
wanted most to see, being rowed on the river, and all 
that. The weather was lovely ; you cannot think how 
beautiful the place looked. . . . 

Your brother, P. 



330 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, Lo>t)ON, 
June 12, 1885. 

Dear Gertie, — ... I have been running up 
and down tliis big world of London and seeing a lot 
of people, and every now and then going off into tbe 
country, whicb is wonderfully pretty now, with haw- 
thorn and lilacs and laburnums all in bloom. 

Last Sunday I went out to Harrow, where there is 
a great school, and there I preached to five hundred 
boys. How A. would like to go there, would n't she ? 
In the afternoon I came back into town, and preached 
in Westminster Abbey to a host of people. The 
great place looked splendid, and it was fine to preach 
there. Yesterday I went twenty miles into the coun- 
try, and preached at an ordination of forty new min- 
isters. The fields were bright wdth daisies, and I won- 
dered how North Andover was looking. You must 
be just packing up to go there now. Even with all 
the beauty of England, it makes me quite homesick 
when I think about it. You must tell me all about 
the removal there, and how you get settled, and how 
your corn-barn looks, and what new things you find 
to do in the old place ; and you must have it all ready 
for me on September 12, when I mean to come up 
early in the morning and spend the whole solid week 
quietly there. That will be just three months from 
to-day. . . . 

I go to Cambridge for next Sunday, and then to 
Oxford for Commemoration and my degree. Good- 
by ; my best of love to all and you. 

Affectionately, Uncle P. 



LONDON. 331 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
June 18, 1885. 

My dear Tood, — You certainly deserve a letter, 
for your letters to me have been delightful and have 
made me very happy. I am sorry you have given up 
the poetry, because it was very interesting and amus- 
ing. Perhaps now that the strain of school is over, 
and you are among the sweet sights and sounds and 
smells of North Andover, you will drop into verse 
again. I shall be glad to hear you sing once more. 
Write me a poem about " Tom." 

I am having a beautiful time, and I wish you all were 
here. If you were, I would get a big carriage this 
morning, and we would all go driving about London 
and out into Hyde Park, and perhaps far away into 
the country. We would see the rhododendrons, which 
are in full bloom now, and we would wish that the 
grass on the lawn in North Andover could be made 
to look half as soft and green as the grass on these 
beautiful English fields. 

I have just come back from Oxford. You should 
have seen me yesterday walking about the streets in 
my Doctor's gown. It was a red gown with black 
sleeves, and is awfully pretty. It was only hired for 
the occasion, for it costs ever so much money, and I 
did not care to buy one. So you will never see how 
splendid I looked in it, for I shall never have it on 
again. ... 

Affectionately your Uncle P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
June 19, 1885. 

Dear William, — I hope you are well and happy, 
and I wish very much that I could see you all to-day. 



332 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

You must be safe at Andover long before tbis, and I 
know bow pretty it must be looking. I sball get a 
bit of it at tbe end of tbe season. It seems to be 
settled now tbat Arcbdeacon Farrar and bis two 
friends will come witb me on tbe Pavonia, September 
2. I bope we sball arrive in Boston on Saturday, tbe 
12tb. Tben we sball spend Sunday in Boston at tbe 
Brunswick. Monday I sball go witb tbem as far as 
tbe Wbite Mountains on tbeir way to Canada, and 
tben about Wednesday come back on tbe Boston & 
Maine Railroad to Andover. How I wisb you could 
put off your vacation till tben, and go witb us to tbe 
mountains, and bave a leisure week at Andover after 
oiu? return. Tbink of it and try and do so. Tell 
M. bow deligbtful it will be if sbe can join us for 
tbe mountains. We need stay tbere but a day or two, 
visiting merely Crawford's and tbe Glen. 

I bave bad a busy and deligbtful week. Saturday 
afternoon I went to Cambridge, getting tbere just in 
time for tbe boat races, wbicb were very picturesque 
and pretty. After tbat came a supper at Professor 
Jebb's, witb lots of dons and professors. Sunday I 
spent at tbe Vice-Cbancellor's, Dr. Ferrers' at tbe 
Lodge in Caius College. At two o'clock I preacbed tbe 
university sermon in Great St. Mary's to a big and 
imposing congregation. It was tbe Tolerance lecture 
wbicb you beard in Cambridge, and it went off very 
well. Monday I roamed about among tbe beautiful 
colleges, luncbed witb an undergraduate, wbo bad a 
pleasant part)^, and went to a big dinner party at tbe 
Jebbs'. Tuesday morning I went to Oxford, a slow 
four bours' ride, took luncb at Dr. Jowett's witb some 
great imiversity folks, and tben went to tbe ]3nblic 
tbeati-e, wbere we bad our D. D. degrees conferred on 



LONDON. 333 

us with queer ceremonies. I send you some papers 
which tell about it. The next day, Wednesday, was 
the great Commemoration Day, with the conferring of 
the D. C. L. degrees, and a college luncheon and a 
brilliant garden party in the afternoon. Then I came 
back to London, and last night went to a dinner 
given in honor of the Precentor of the Abbey. To- 
night I dine with Mr. Bryce, whom you remember at 
our Matthew Arnold dinner of last winter. So it goes 
all the time ; but after two weeks more it will be over. 
On the 3d of July we go on to the Continent, and 
life will be quieter, or at least it will have a differ- 
ent sort of bustle. 

... I have not been anywhere, except in London 
and at the universities, during all this visit. The 
papers tell us it is very hot with you. Here it is cool 
and pleasant. The crisis and change of government 
of course keeps everything excited. Gladstone goes 
out with honor, having saved the world a war. My 
kind love to all. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
June 25, 1885. 

Dear Mary, — ... I love to think of you all at 
North Andover, and to look forward to the time when 
I shall be with you. The plan of which I wrote last 
week has fallen through. Archdeacon Farrar and his 
friends have made up their minds that they must sail 
direct for Canada, and so I shall come alone in the 
Pavonia, and the White Momitain trip will not take 
place. I shall come to North Andover on Monday 
morning, the 14th of September, and stay there 
quietly as long as I can. Archdeacon Farrar's party 
will not reach Boston until the first of November. 



334 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

Everything here has been delightful. People have 
been very kind, and invitations flow in in far greater 
numbers than I can accept. It has been very interest- 
ing to be here during the political crisis and see the 
English people change their government. Kight in 
the thick of it I met Mr. Gladstone at dinner at Mr. 
Bryce's, and he was full of spirits and as merry as a 
boy. Our new minister, Mr. Phelps, was there, and 
Senator Edmunds, and it was very interesting to see 
the English and American statesmen meet. 

I was invited by Lord Aberdeen to go to his country 
place and spend Sunday with Mr. Gladstone, but I 
had promised to preach here and could not go. I was 
very sorry, for it would have been a capital chance 
to see the great man familiarly. 

I am just back from Lincoln, where I have spent 
the day and preached this afternoon in the magnificent 
cathedral. On Saturday I go to Salisbury to stay 
with the Dean, and preach in that cathedral on Sunday. 
Monday I come back to town, and dine on Tuesday 
with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Pal- 
ace. Wednesday I start off to meet the Paines, 
who have been absent for two weeks in Scotland, and 
w^e shall travel together somewhere for a week ; then 
back to London and off together to the Continent, 
about the time you get this note. 

We have had hardly any heat, and to-day is as cold 
as March, but the country is looking glorious, and 
the town is as gay as Marlborough Street in February. 

What are you all doing ? And how does the old house 
look with its green grass and yellow hitching-post ? 
Is Tom still alive after his hard winter's experience? 
How I wish I coidd look in on you to-night. It is 
most midnight here, but you are just about finishing 



TINTERN. 335 

supper and sitting down to logomacliy. I have not 
seen the blessed game since we played it in Clarendon 
Street the night before I left. You must thank 
Agnes and Susie for their last letters. The New 
York trip must have been a great event. Yesterday I 
thought about Conunencement and wished I was there. 
I hope Arthur was with you. Good-night. . . . 

Ever and ever affectionately, P. 

TzNTERN, JiJy 2, 1885. 

Dear William, — A happy new year to you, and 
a gTcat many more of them for years to come. You 
have had a good time for the last fifty-one years, and 
I am sure you have helped other people (such as I) 
to have a great many good times all along. Now you 
are just in the prime of life, with ever so many happy 
years before you, and I congratulate you on both past 
and future, and send you the heartiest, happy new 
year across the water. 

One week more is gone, and now that I have heard 
from you at North Andover, I feel as if I had really 
got hold of your summer. The children's letters from 
there made it seem very real and near. . . . The pony 
seems to be a principal character in the household, 
and I am rejoiced that Tom has recovered from the 
trials and humiliations of the winter. 

... I spent last Sunday at Salisbury, where I had 
a delightful day and preached in the cathedral, which 
is now thoroughly restored, and looks a great deal bet- 
ter than it did when you and I saw it filled with 
scaffolding. I stayed with the Dean, and saw some 
very pleasant people. Then I came back to London, 
and had two more days there, and on Wednesday 
came off for this little western tour. When you get 



336 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

tliis the Channel will have been crossed and the jabber 
of foreign tongnes will be about us. The weather is 
delightful and all goes charmingly. . . . 

Bonn, July 11, 1885. 

Deak Gertie, — It is a very lovely morning on 
the Rhine. I am afraid that it T^dll be hot by and by, 
when the steamboat comes along and we start to go up 
the river ; but at present, before breakfast, it is very 
lovely. There is a pretty village with trees and a 
church tower just across the river, and the little boats 
keep coming and going, and the children on the bank, 
in front of the hotel, are playing like kittens, and 
everything is as bright and sunshiny as if there was n't 
such a thing as trouble in the world. Speaking of 
kittens, I wonder if you have found the little thing 
that used to hide away in the barn, and that the boy 
could n't catch for a quarter of a dollar. But perhaps 
she has grown to be a big cat, and is n't worth the 
catching now, which is the way with a good many 
people. When you want them you cannot get them, 
and when you get them you don't want them. 

A man has just come and set up a stand in the 
square under my window to sell cherries, and the 
children are looking at them hard, and no doubt wish- 
ing that they had two cents. I would give them two 
dollars apiece all around if I could talk German as 
well as they can. And so we all want something which 
we have not got. I wonder what you want. If it 's 
anything in Europe, write a letter and tell me the 
name of it instantly, and I will get it for you. . . . 

We left London on Thursday morning, and I shall 
not see it again till the 1st of Augiist, when I shall go 
there to get my playthings together before I sail in 



SALZBURG. 337 

the Pavonia on the 3d. I have had a very beautiful 
time there, but now I am glad to be traveling again 
and on my way to the great mountains. I wish you 
were with me and were here this morning. I would 
give you some cherries. 

I long to see the pon}^ Next year I think we must 
have one of our o^ti, or would you like a donkey bet- 
ter, for which G. B. advertised? We must consult 
Tood about it. My best of love to you all and to 
" Tom." Goodby. Your uncle, P. 

Salzbukq, July 15, 1885. 

Dear Williajh, — When I reached here yester- 
day, I found a group of delightful letters from North 
Andover, which had the flavor of the old place about 
them. I think about you now as settled there, with 
the Jack-o'-lanterns burning on the garden wall. . . . 

I have left England after a most delightful visit. 
It was full of interesting occurrences, and I shall look 
back upon it with the greatest pleasure. Now we are 
on our way southward, and after a drive through the 
Tyrol, we shall probably bring up for a few days in 
Venice ; then back to Switzerland, where we shall 
have about three weeks. Seven weeks from this after- 
noon I shall be afloat, headed for Queenstown and 
Boston. All goes beautifully. The weather is delight- 
ful, and the scenery, pictures, and cathedrals are the 
same splendid things that they have been for the last 
twenty years and many years before. Tell G. to keep 
as right as she can till the 11th of September, and 
after that I will look after her; and thank S. for 
her account of the corn-barn banquet, which made my 
mouth water very much indeed. 

. . . The programme for the Church Congress in the 



338 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

autumn, wliicli jou inclosed in your letter, really 
made one believe that there was to be a new campaign 
begun by and by, but it seems very far off now. 
Still, I think we will not carry out our little plan of 
retiring from active life this autumn. Let us wait 
another year. . . . 

Ever affectionately, P. 

Hotel Danieu, Veihce, 
July 24, 1885. 

My dear Mary, — . . . How pretty it must be 
with you this afternoon ; not half as hot as Venice, I 
am sure. But every now and then a breeze comes 
floating from the water, and there are gondolas skim- 
ming by, the beautiful St. Giorgio rises opposite out 
of the sea, and the bells are lazily ringing for two 
o'clock, which is the time when the pigeons come to 
be fed in the Piazza of St. Mark. It is all very soft, 
and lazy, and beautiful, and the letter which I re- 
ceived the other day from Mr. Allen, about things at 
Trinity, sounded far away. . . . 

I wish you could see it all. The Queen is here, and 
every evening the young prince comes out on the Grand 
Canal, and hosts of gondolas are there with lamps and 
lanterns. Every now and then a company of singers 
in a gondola goes floating by, the fine band plays in the 
Royal Gardens, the people shout, " Viva Regina Mar- 
gherita " under the royal windows, the ices of the cafes 
are really most delicious, and San Marco looks down 
upon it all in the moonlight and seems to smile. In 
the mornings, there are great cool galleries full of glo- 
rious pictures, and quiet back streets where the people 
lounge in the doorways and chatter round the fountains. 
Oh, it is very delightful, and I wish with all my heart 
that you all were here, so I do. . . . 



WENGERN-ALP. 339 

Bellagio, July 30, 1885. 
My dear Gertie, — It is a beautiful warm morn- 
ing on tlie lake of Como, so warm that one does not 
feel like doing anything but sitting still and ^vriting a 
lazy letter to a dear little girl in America. The water, 
as I look out of the mndow, is a delicious blue, and 
the sweet green hills on the other side of the lake are 
sound asleep in the sunlight, which they like. There 
is a garden of palm-trees and oleanders right under 
my window, and the oleanders are all in gorgeous 
bloom. A boatman is waiting at the marble steps, in 
case any one wants his boat ; but I think he hopes 
that nobody will want it, for it must be awfully hot 
rowing upon the lake. This afternoon, when it gets 
cooler, I shall change all this and start up to the moun- 
tains, and by to-morrow night I shall be at St. Moritz, 
among the glaciers and snow-banks. But wherever I 
am, I am thinking how very pleasant it must be in the 
old house, and what a good time we will have when I 
get back there six weeks from next Monday afternoon. 
We will not make any plans for excursions, but just 
stay quiet on the big piazza, and now and then, when 
we feel very energetic, make a long trip to the corn- 
barn. Everybody must come and see us ; we will not 
go to see anybody. . . . 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Wengern-Aup, August 12, 1885. 

Dear William, — ... A letter from the Weng- 
ern-Alp must go to you, for the view which is before me 
as I write brings back most vi\^dly the day we climbed 
from Grindenwald, and sat and looked at the white 
beauty for an hour before we scrambled down to Lauter- 
brunnen and went on our way to Thun. I came up 



340 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

the same way yesterday afternoon, on a better horse 
than I had the day I was with you, and reached here 
just in time to see the evening light. This morning 
the sunrise was delightful, and now, as I write, I can 
see the glorious Jungf rau with its splendid snow ; and 
the avalanches keep thundering all the time, and send- 
ing up their clouds of icy dust. I wish you were here ! 

. . . What terribly hot days you must have had ! 
One of the great discoveries of the future will be 
how to deal with the temperature of the world, and 
cool a whole city as you cool a refrigerator, or warm a 
continent as you warm a house. 

It seems as if the Americans were at home this 
smnmer, for I have seen hardly any. Dr. Osgood and 
his family and Mrs. Copley Green and her children 
were at Lucerne, and I went to see them at the Eng- 
lisher Hof , after service at that English church where 
we went, you remember, one Sunday in 1877. Three 
weeks from to-day I sail ; then, in ten days, I shall see 
you all. Affectionately, P. 

Chamounix, Aug-ust 19, 1885. 

Dear Gertie, — Mont Blanc has put his head 
under a cloud, and there is nothing to be seen outside 
except a lot of guides and porters waiting for the 
diligence to come from Geneva. So before the dinner 
bell rings, I will send off my week's letter, and it shall 
be to you. Tell Tood that the next week's, which will 
be the last that I shall write, shall be to her, for she 
has been a good little girl and written me beautiful 
letters all summer. So have jou. I got jo\x£ letter 
here last night with the picture of the bird house in 
the garden on the side of the paper. After you get 
this letter, remember that you are not to do a single 



PARIS. 341 

tiling exciting until I get home, so that you will be all 
fresh and strong to play with me. . . . Only two 
weeks from to-day! Just think of it! Two weeks 
from now the beautiful Pavonia will be steaming 
away doA\Ti the Channel, bound for North Andover, 
and three weeks from next Sunday I shall stand up in 
Trinity again. 

You cannot think how splendid the great mountain 
was last night. The sky was perfectly clear and the 
moon was glorious, and the big round dome of snow 
shone like another world. The peojDle stood and gazed 
at it and looked solemn. This morning it had 
changed, but was no less beautiful. It was like a 
great mass of silver. And so it stands there and 
changes from one sort of beauty to another, year after 
year, and age after age. 

I think you must have a beautiful time this sum- 
mer with the pony, and next year we must try 
to have one of our own. Make up your mind what 
kind and color he shall be, and we will look about and 
see what we can find when I get home. It must be 
a great sight to see Tood driving aU by her blessed 
self, and all the fast horses on the road getting out of 
the way for fear she will run over them. . . . Perhaps 
you and she can drive me out to Cambridge, mornings 
in November, in the pony-cart. I wonder if I shall 
go there this year, and whether you will go with me. 
Good-by now. Affectionately, your uncle, P. 

Grakd Hotel, Paris, August 27, 1885. 

My dear Tood, — It really begins to look as if I 
were actually coming home, for you see the Pavonia 
arrived yesterday at Liverpool, and she will stay there 
until next Wednesday, and then she expects me to go 



342 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 

back in her. It seems very likely, therefore, that two 
weeks from day after to-morrow, I shall come ashore in 
Boston ; then I shall see you and have the chance to 
thank you for all your pleasant letters, which it has 
been a very great delight to get, and which have very 
much relieved the weariness and troubles of my 
journey. I think that you are one of the very best 
letter writers for your time of life that I know, and 
when you drop into poetry it is beautiful. So I will 
thank you when I get home, and we will sit in the 
shadow of the corn-barn and talk it all over. 

Paris is very bright and gay and pretty. Yester- 
day I went out to the Jardin d' Acclimatation (say that 
if you can), and the monkeys were awfully funny. 
How would it do to get three monkeys for North 
Andover, and tie them to a post in the side yard and 
see them play and fight ? How would Tom like it ? 
And do you think it would please Johnny, or would 
he only think they were some more Brooks children ? 
I am afraid you have not seen much of Johnny this 
year. That is not wise. For he is a very brilliant 
little boy, and it would be a great advantage to you 
and A. if you talked with him. . . . 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 



ACROSS THE CONTINENT TO SAN 
FRANCISCO. 

1886. 

Victoria Hotel, Alamosa, Colokado, 
May 6, 1886. 

Dear William, — This is tlie first letter of tlie 
great journey, written in the midst of the tumult 
of Raymond tourists and cow-boys, who fill the office 
of this beautiful hotel, while we are waiting for our 
dinner. We are on the crest of the continent, a good 
six thousand feet above the sea, with Pike's Peak and 
a host of other snow-peaked giants of the Rocky 
Mountains in full view, and the queerest shanty-town 
to stay in that you ever saw. But what a day it is ! 
Such atmosphere, sunshine, and great outlooks in 
every direction ! To-day we have been up to the 
Toltec Gorge, riding through endless plains of sage 
grass, with queer little prairie dogs sitting, each of 
them, on the edge of his hole to see us pass. The 
Gorge is very fine and picturesque, not up to Switzer- 
land, but with a bigger feeling about it, and altogether 
mighty good to look at. 

... A very pleasant journey brought me to Chicago 
Saturday night in the director's car, with the Baker 
party, who were pleasant people. Simday I heard 
Professor Swing in the morning, Osborn in the after' 
noon, and a man whose name I have forgotten in the 
evening. I wonder how things went at Trinity ? 

Then came the ride to Kansas City, crossing the big 



344 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

Mississippi at Rock Island and Davenport. Then there 
was the very beautiful ride across Kansas, and here 
we are in Colorado, with New Mexico close by. All 
has gone well. The excursion plan works nicely. The 
company is pleasant. The days are long and idle. 
There is a great deal to see, and impressions crowd 
fast and thick. On the whole it is a good success so 
far, and better things are promising ahead. It is not 
Europe, but it is big America, and one is feeling its 
bigness more and more every day. . . . 

We must be all in the best condition for Andover 
by and by. I am looking forward to that. 

Affectionately, P. 

Palace Hotel, Santa Fe, May 9, 1886. 

Dear Gertie, — It is very hot here, and the sun is 
shining down upon my window dreadfully. But the 
things one sees out of the window are very queer and 
interesting. The houses are built of mud, and almost 
all of them only one story high. Indians and Mexi- 
cans, in bright red and white blankets, walk down the 
street. Funny little donkeys are wandering about, 
with small children riding on their backs and kicking 
them with their small naked heels. There are some 
barracks across the street with a flag flying, and a few 
soldiers lounging in the shade. Up the street there 
is a great cathedral, whose bells are ringing for some 
service. We are over seven thousand feet above the 
sea, and the air is so dry that you are always thirsty 
and cannot get enough ice water. 

How I should love to take a Back Bay car and come 
down to one of those lovely five o'clock teas, and drink, 
and drink, and drink lemonade for three quarters of 
an hour. . . . 



NEAR LOS ANGELES. 345 

To-morrow we start across the Desert to California, 
and wlien you get this I shall be at Los Angeles, which 
everybody says is just as beautiful as Paradise. How 
I wish you would take a swift car and join me there. 
We would eat oranges, and figs, and grapes, and apri- 
cots, and all the good things that make your mouth 
water when you think of them. 

... I wonder how far your letter to me has got. 
About to Kansas City, I shoidd think. Give my best 
love to everybody, and be sure I am your 

Affectionate uncle, P. 

Sierra Madre Villa, near Los Angeles, California, 
May 14, 1886. 

My dear William, — I wish you could see how 
beautiful this place is. It is not exactly like any- 
thing I ever saw before, though there is something of 
Italy, and something of India, and something of Syria 
about it. It is a world of vines and oranges, with 
palm-trees here and there, the high hills and a few 
white peaks of the Sierra Nevada standing up behind. 
The flowers are gorgeous ; masses of roses and hedges 
of calla lilies all in bloom, honeysuckles and helio- 
tropes growing iip like the sides of houses. It is as 
good a fairy-land as one can fuid anywhere in this 
poor world. 

The way here over the Desert was dreary enough, 
but very picturesque and striking, and the descent of 
the long Pacific slope was very beautiful, with countless 
flowers and all sorts of strange shapes of hill and valley. 

The great continent is crossed, and though we have 
not yet seen the Pacific, we are within a few miles of it, 
and shall get sight of it to-morrow when we go to 
Santa Monica, which is directly on the coast. The 



346 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

journey has gone bravely on, with no mishap. The 
" excursion " part of it is a decided success. It has 
reminded me always of an ocean voyage. The excur- 
sionists are like your fellow-passengers, — you get 
familiar with their faces, and learn to greet them in 
the morning. With a few of them you become ac- 
quainted, but you are under no responsibility regard- 
ing them, and make your o^tl companionships just as 
you please. The comfort of it is delightful. There 
are no plans to make, no money to pay out, and no 
time-tables to be studied. Nothing but a little book 
to go by, and a man to tell you what to do. By all 
means, when you come to California be a Raymond 
Excursionist. ... 

YosEMiTE Valley, May 20, 1886. 

My dear Mary, — There never were such preci- 
pices and waterfalls, and so I am going to write you a 
letter. You see, it takes a two days' drive to get here ; 
the roads are terribly rough, and when you come sud- 
denly to Inspiration Point and look down into this 
glorious place, ringing with cataracts that come tum- 
bhng over the brink, and with a plunge of ten Nia- 
garas burst into clouds of spray, it is like looking into 
a big green heaven inclosed with the most stupendous 
cliffs, so that the blessed cannot get out, nor the 
wicked get in. After you get here it is very won- 
derful. One cannot describe it any more than one can 
paint it. There is nothing like it in the world, and if 
it were not so many thousand miles away, we would 
come here from North Andover once every summer. 
But it is a marvel that one can only get once in a life- 
time. You can see a bit of a picture of it in the corner. 

I am writing this beautiful letter at the right-hand 



YOSEMITE VALLEY. 347 

side of the piazza, where the mosquitoes are very 
troublesome. To-day I have ridden an unfortunate 
horse up a four-mile hill, and seen another world of 
waterfalls and hills. I will describe them to you when 
I get home. The whole journey has been very funny 
and pleasant. There are people and places all along 
the road, at Chicago, Kansas City, Alamosa, Santa 
Fe, and Los Angeles, which I never shall forget. If 
you could only see the place where we spent last Sun- 
day ! The oranges made the whole landscape giow.^ 
and the roses and heliotropes made it fragrant. To- 
morrow I start for San Francisco. Think of us on 
Sunday after next. May 30, at Monterey, and probably 
the first Sunday in June at Portland, Oregon. Have 
you heard they have chosen me Assistant Bishop of 
Pennsylvania ? . . . Would it not be strange to go 
there again and end my ministry where I began it ? 
But then it would interfere with our plan of retiring 
to North Andover in a few years, which is what I am 
most longing for and looking forward to in life. . . . 
Just now a carriage-load of Raymond people, fel- 
low-travelers of ours, went by. You have no idea how 
friendly and familiar we are with them all. There 
are men of letters and men of business, and women of 
all sorts and kinds. Some of them talk good English, 
some talk bad, and some talk what can hardly be called 
English at all. Some of them grumble, some of them 
smile, and some of them look too stupid to do either. 
The way they make up to each other, and have grown 
to be like brothers and sisters, is delightful. They 
are more or less scattered now, but they will come to- 
gether again at the Palace Hotel at San Francisco on 
Saturday night, and then until we go, some of us, to 
Oregon, the company will see much of one another.. 



848 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

There is tlie queerest primitiveness of life in this 
blessed valley. Your landlord talks to you like a 
brother. He asked me just now if I was the father of 
a Mr. Brooks who was here ten years ago. . . . Then 
he appealed to us this morning to be prompt at break- 
fast, because his wife had been working over the stove 
ever since three o'clock (when the first stage went 
off), and was almost dead. So one finds himself part 
of the family, and the cares of the house are his. Yet, 
if it were Boston, I would leave it and come to Marl- 
borough Street and get some lemonade. I wonder 
what you all are doing and how you are. 

. . . Here comes another stage with a tired-looking 
party of Raymondites, who have been to see the after- 
noon rainbow on the Bridal Veil. Then a wild Mexi- 
can galloping by on his mustang, to show off before 
us who sit on the piazza. It is all very nice, but by 
and by it will be over and then 

I hope you will be glad to see 

Your very loving brother, P. 

Fat.ace Hotel, Sa];? Francisco, Caufornia, 
May 27, 1886. 

My dear Gertie, — What a good time we shall 
have this summer I ... I will tell you all about the 
Pacific Ocean, and how fine it is to stand on the 
rocks and look way off to China. There is a 
great deal of China here. The other night I went to 
a Chinese theatre, and the way they howled, and 
grinned, and cut up on the stage was something won- 
derful. Their play goes on for a month, being taken 
up each evening where they haj^pened to leave off the 
night before, so you hit it at one point, and it is very 
hard to make out what the story is. Besides, it is in 



MONTEREY. 349 

Chinese. There is no scenery, and the spectators 
(those that pay half a dollar) sit right on the stage 
and go through the dressing-room. The quarter of a 
dollar people sit in front of the stage, just as our 
audiences do. It was very confused, picturesque, and 
funny. Next week I am going up to Oregon, and shall 
be somewhere there when you get this letter. I wonder 
what that country is Kke. It always sounds as if people 
went about in furs and talked O jib way to each other, 
but I dare say they do not. However, I shall see next 
week, and then can tell you. We shall sail through 
the Golden Gate, and have a lovely voyage up the 
coast to Portland, in a beautiful steamer. How I 
wish you would come, too. . . . 

HoTEii DEL Monte, Monterey, Califoknia, 
June 1, 1886. 

I have written from such various places the last 
month, I fear my letters have been rather irregular in 
reaching you. I have written to somebody at your 
house every week. I have heard also most irregularly 
from you, but I have had several letters from yourseK, 
and your father and mother, for all of which I am very 
thankful. They have been very good to get. ... I 
am longing now to be quietly settled at the old place. 
Not that this trip is not delightful. Everything has 
gone perfectly, and much of the best is yet to come. 
We are spending a few days at this beautiful place, and 
to-morrow go back to San Francisco, stopping on the 
way to see the Floods at their famous palatial place 
at Menlo Park. I have already had five days at San 
Francisco, which were very interesting. . . , 

Thursday I go alone by steamer to Portland, Ore- 
gon, and shall rejoin the party ten days later at Salt 



350 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

Lake. The sea, on wliicli we spend forty-eiglit hours, 
is a terror to most of the people, but I expect to enjoy 
it very much, and shall be glad to get sight of Puget's 
Sound and Vancouver's Island. The June days there 
will be delightful. Oh, if you could only be with 
me. . . . My next great delight is being with you all 
at Andover. My best love to everybody. 

Affectionately, P. 

ViCTOKiA, Vancouver's Island, Puget Sound, 
June 8, 1886. 

My deae Mary, — I hoj)e this Puget Sound sounds 
as far from Boston to you as it does to me. It has 
taken a long time to get here, and is my farthest 
point from home upon this journey. From this after- 
noon every step is homeward. Already the boat is 
lying at the wharf and I am writing in the cabin, while 
there is a racket going on, of the men who are bringing 
freiofht on board, and in a few minutes we shall sail 
for Tacoma and Portland. Lunch is ready on the 
table, or at least the preparations for lunch, but we 
must not have any until the steamer gets away. And 
I am very hungry, for I have been on a long drive 
over the country for the last three hours, trying to find 
out what this bit of Her Majesty's dominions may be 
like. 

I wish you and G. had been with me, for the drive 
was beautiful, and led to a dry dock at a queer little 
village, where one of the Queen's men-of-war was 
lying, looking very picturesque. The town itself is a 
big rambling j^lace, with a 23retty park outside, which 
they call Beacon Hill, just as if it were in Boston. 

The streets have queer folks, Indians and Chinamen, 
strolling about, which makes them interesting. There 



VICTORIA. 351 

was a curious little Chinese girl, with a long pigtail, 
who came with us in this boat in charge of an officer 
who was takino* her back to Victoria. She had been 
stolen from China, brought out to British America, 
thence smuo'o-led to our dominions, and there a China- 
man had made her marry him, and he was going to 
sell her asrain in San Francisco, when the law came to 
her rescue, and she was going back in gTcat glee, leav- 
ino; her husband behind her. She was not far from 
being pretty, and was certainly a very cimning-looking 
little thing, only fifteen years old, with flowers in her 
hand and the most comical and clumsy dress you ever 
saw. We left her at Victoria, and there seems now 
to be nobody of any interest (here the boat started 
which accounts for the joggling) except a horrid lit- 
tle boy, who looks out of the window and asks silly 
questions, for which his mother scolds him. His ques- 
tions are very silly, but she need not scold him so, for 
he e\^dently gets his silliness by direct inheritance 
from her. I had a beautifid limcheon, rice, salmon, 
lamb chops, baked beans, and cherry-pie. There is 
nobody on the boat that I know. Coming up, there 
was a man from Jamaica Plain, but he left at Seattle, 
and I saw him no more. 

The Sound is very beautiful, with its woody shores 
and snowy peaks beyond. Mt. Baker at this end and 
Mt. Tacoma at the other are majestic creatures, quite 
worthy to keep company with the Alps or Himalayas. 
I hate to turn back and leave Alaska unseen. That 
must be gorgeous, and it is so easy to go there from 
here ! . . . 

TVhen I get back I wiU go to town Sundays, and the 
long weeks between, we will spend in the old house 
and have a lovely time. 



352 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

I hope that you are all well and happy as I am, and 
as anxious to see me as I am to see you. 

Ever affectionately, P. 



Manitou Springs, Colorado, 
June 17, 1886. 

My dear Agnes, — You wrote me such a very 
nice and interesting letter, which I received the other 
day when I was among the Mormons, that I must 
acknowledge it by sending this week's letter to you. 
It is my only chance, for before next week's letter 
is written I shall be rushing across Kansas and Mis- 
souri on the way home, and should overtake my letter 
if I wrote one. So this shall be the last. . . . 

I wish I could look in upon you at North An- 
dover this morning, though this place is very pretty, 
the top of Pike's Peak very high, and the waterfalls 
are very noisy: so are the visitors, for it is a real 
summer place, like a White Mountain hotel. It 
would be pleasant, instead of breakfasting in a few 
minutes in the room next to this, to come into your 
dining-room and eat a great deal better breakfast 
than we shall get here. Well, it will come in two 
weeks. 

I shall get to Boston Saturday morning. Then I 
must spend Sunday there. I have a meeting to which 
I shall go on Monday evening, so I may not get to An- 
dover till Tuesday, and must come down again for 
Commencement on Wednesday and Thursday. That 
week will be a good deal broken up ; but after that 
is over, I shall live at the old house all the time. 

This is Bunker Hill day, is n't it? Little those 
people knew about Pike's Peak and Salt Lake City ! 



DENVER. 353 

You must give my love to everybody, and some day 
write another letter to your 

Affectionate uncle, Phillips, 

Denveb, June 20, 1886. 

Dear Tood, — "When I got here last night, I 
found the hotel man very much excited and running 
about waving a beautiful letter in the air, and crying 
aloud, " A letter from Tood ! A letter from Tood ! " 
He was just going to get out a band of music to 
march around the town and look for the man to whom 
the letter belonged, when I stepped up and told him I 
thought that it was meant for me. He made me show 
him my name in my hat before he would give it to 
me, and then a great crowd gathered round and lis- 
tened while I read it. It was such a beautiful letter 
that they all gave three cheers, and I thought I must 
write you an answer at once, although I told A., 
when I wrote to her the other day, that I should not 
write to anybody else before my coming home. 

Your letter is very largely about Johnny. My 
dear Tood, you must not let his going away depress 
you too much. I know you like him, and that he has 
been very good to you ; but such separations have to 
come, and you will no doubt see some other young 
man some day that you will like just as much. You 
do not think so now, but you will, and he no doubt 
feels very bad at going, so you must be as cheerful 
as you can and make it as easy as possible for him. 
Remember ! 

I am on my way home now, and next Saturday will 
see me back again in Clarendon Street. All the dear 
little Chinese, with their pigtails, and the dreadfid 
great Mormons, with their hundred wives, and the don- 



354 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 

keys and the buffaloes and tlie Red Indians will be far 
away, and I shall see you all again. I am impatient 
for that, for the people out West are not as good as 
you are. I am going to preach to them this morn- 
ing, to try and make them better, and it is quite time 
now to go to church. ... 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 



A SUMMEK IN JAPAN. 

1889. 

Walker Hotel, Salt Lake City, 
June 18, 1889. 

Dear William, — This is the first letter of the 
great new series. It will not amount to much, but 
will let you know that we have come thus far without 
accident, discomfort, or delay, and are spending Sun- 
day among the Mormons. The day is bright and 
warm, and we shall sit with content this afternoon in 
the great Tabernacle, and see the queer people go 
through their queer worship. In the cool of the even- 
ing we shall leave for Ogden, and sleep in the hurry- 
ing car which carries us to San Francisco, where we 
shall arrive at noon on Wednesday. 

Everything here looks just as it did three years ago. 
The great Temple has grown, but is many years from 
its completion, and the Mormons and Gentiles who 
fill the streets are the same lank and loiingy crowd. 
I do not want to live here, and do not see any danger 
that I shall have to. . . . We saw the mighty scenery 
of the Denver and Rio Grande, gazed at Pike's Peak, 
rushed through the Grand Canon of the Arkansas, 
and reached here in time for a drive and a bed last 
night. . . . The heat has not been troublesome, and 
Japan does not seem to have such a sultry climate, 
after all. . . . 

All begins well. May everything go well with you 



356 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

until we meet again. My love to all, and tell them I 
am in North Andover in heart to-day. 

Paiace HoTEii, San Fkancisco, 
June 20, 1889. 

Deak William, — At last the great day has come, 
and we sail this afternoon in the City of Sidney. We 
have been to see her, and find she is a fine big vessel 
of three thousand five himdred tons, with large state- 
rooms on the upper deck, of which we have one apiece. 
There is only one other passenger besides us. We 
have not seen him yet, but he is said to be a Rus- 
sian, and is the United States Commissioner for 
Alaska. We shall know him well before we get to 
Yokohama. The captain, first officer, and steward 
seem to be good fellows, and there is every prospect 
of a pleasant voyage. Everybody says that it is cool 
and smooth, and I do not think we shall find it too 
long. We have laid in some books, and there are 
big decks for walkee-walkee when we feel the need of 
exercise. 

We shall hope to sail back by the City of Eio de 
Janeiro, lea^dng Yokohama on the 21st of August, 
due in San Francisco about the 5th of September. I 
hoj^e this will bring me back to Massachusetts in time 
to get two solid quiet weeks at North Andover before 
the time to go to New York for General Convention. 
That will be good, will it not ? . . . Thanks for your 
letter and your telegTam. How often I shall think of 
you on the long voyage. My kindest love to all of 
you, and may we be taken care of until we meet in 
September. Farewell, farewell! 

Affectionately, P. 



STEAMSHIP CITY OF SIDNEY. 357 

Steamship City of Sidney, 
July 8, 1889. 

My dear Gertie, — You shall have the first letter 
from the other side of the world. We have crossed 
the Pacific and are within a hundred miles of Yoko- 
hama. We shall arrive at midnight, and to-morrow 
a steamer leaves there for San Francisco, which will 
carry homewards this letter. It is our eighteenth day 
at sea, and we are more than seven thousand miles 
from North Andover, — think of that ! 

It has been a good voyage, though the weather 
has not been bright. It has been cold and rainy till 
yesterday, but there has been no storm and not much 
rough weather. To-day is loveliness itseK, but we 
are still wearing thick clothes, and the big ulster has 
done service most of the voyage. There has been 
almost no sitting on deck. We have read a great 
many novels, and looked for the sunlight, which we 
have hardly seen. 

Besides Dr. McYickar and me, there have been two 
passengers and a half. First, a queer old Russian 
gentleman, bound for Kamchatka and the islands 
where the seals are found; a strange old creature, 
who has been all over creation, and seen everything 
and everybody, and is quite interesting. Besides him, 
there is a missionary lady and her baby, going back 
to Japan, but she has kept her stateroom most aU 
the way, and we have hardly seen her. So we three 
men, with the ship's officers, have had the great 
steamer to ourselves. She is not like the Adriatic or 
Germanic, but she is a fine large ship and very com- 
fortable. Plenty of room, plenty to eat, and every- 
body well all the time. 

. . . The Kodak came out this morning for the first 



358 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

time, and took the ship and the captain. There has 
been no sun for it before. . . . 

Think of us seeing Fujiyama to-morrow. 

Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Tokyo, July 14, 1889. 

Arthur Dear, — Shall I tell you what Japan 
looks like to one on the sixth day after his arrival ? 
I could not begin to do it if I tried, but of all bright, 
merry, pretty places, it is the prettiest and brightest, 
and if ever life anywhere is a frolic and a joke, it 
must be here. I do not think there can be a grim 
spot in all the happy islands. It is all so different 
from India. If India is a perpetual dream, some- 
times deepening into a nightmare, Japan is a per- 
petual spectacle, now and then blazing into a mild 
orgie. I do not think there can be a place anywhere 
in the world more suitable for pure relaxation. It is 
just the country for a summer vacation, and the get- 
ting here is delightful. 

After we left you that morning in New York, five 
weeks ago next Tuesday, we had a prosperous journey 
across the continent ; and after two days in San Fran- 
cisco, sailed across the Pacific, a long, wet, placid 
voyage of eighteen days, and landed at Yokohama 
with minds well emptied, rested, and ready for what- 
ever might be poured in. The people looked so glad 
to see us. The jinrikisha men did not quarrel with 
our bulk ; the foreign residents were kind and hospi- 
table. In Yokohama I dined with a classmate of 
yours, John Lindsley by name, who is the agent of 
the Canadian Pacific, and has a beautiful house and 
pretty wife. Yesterday we came on hither, where 
to-day, in addition to thousands of heathen, I have 



TOKYO, 359 

seen Bishop Williams and many of tlie missionary 
people and arrangements of our church. It all looks 
very well, and the best of the foreigners tell good 
stories about missionary life and influence. 

So Japan is a true success as the field for a summer 
journey. The weather so far is delightful, and the 
great Buddha at Kamakura is wonderful indeed. 

I hope your summer is going delightfidly. I am 
sure it is. My best love to Lizzie. . . . 

Affectionately, P. 

Tokyo, July 14, 1889. 

Dear William, — This is the sixth day in Japan, 
and all goes wonderfully well. In a few days the 
steamer starts for San Francisco, and a word of greet- 
ing shall go in her to tell you that we landed safely 
from the City of Sidney last Tuesday morning, and 
since then have lived in Yokohama until yesterday. 

We came here, and are now in the very heart of Jap- 
anese history and life. It is very fascinating. The 
brightest, merriest, kindest, and most graceful people, 
who seem as glad to see you as if they had been wait- 
ing for you all these years, smile upon you in the 
streets, and make you feel as if their houses were yours 
the moment you cross the threshold. They drag you 
round in their absurd jinrikishas as if it were a jolly 
joke, and are sitting now by the score along the road 
outside the window in all degTees of undress and all 
the colors of the rainbow, chattering away, making- 
pretty gestures, as if good manners and civility were 
the only ends of life. I never saw anything like it, 
and the fascination grows with every new street pic- 
ture that one sees. 

The weather is delightful : mornings and evenings 



360 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

are very cool and pleasant ; tlie noonday is hot, but 
not too hot to go about ; and every now and then tre- 
mendous downfalls of rain. Wednesday it rained as 
I hardly ever saw it rain before, and you would have 
laughed to see our experiences on Thursday, when we 
went into the country to see the great bronze Buddha, 
sixty feet high, who has sat for six hundred years in a 
great grove of pine-trees twenty miles from Yokohama. 
The railroad had been swept away by the rain, and we 
had to take to jinrikishas. The road was overflowed, 
and we had to get into boats and be ferried over the 
submerged rice-fields. Finally, I found myself on a 
coolie's back, being carried over a little torrent, which 
the jinrikisha could not cross. The coolie never will 
forget it any more than I shall ; but we saw the Dai- 
batzu, which is the gigantic Buddha's name. And I 
snapped the Kodak into his very face. 

We have had most hospitable welcome from Ameri- 
can and English people ; almost every night in Yoko- 
hama we dined out, and here we have been given rooms 
at the club, which is a Government affair and most 
comfortable. To-morrow night we are to dine with 
the English Bishop of Japan, and there is more of 
courtesy and kindness than we can accept. 

We shall have warmer weather, for everybody says 
the summer has not fairly begun. It will not be 
excessive. Indeed, the whole climate is not unlike the 
summer climate of New York. 

To-day we have been looking a little at our foreign 
missionary work, and find it a very real thing, full of 
interest and promise. 

Five weeks ago to-night I spent the evening in Marl- 
borough Street. If you meet Dr. George Ellis, as we 
did that evening on Commonwealth Avenue, tell him 



NIKKO. 361 

Japan is a great success ; and with all love to M. and 
the children, be sure that I am 

Affectionately, P. 

NiKKO, July 21, 1889. 

My deak Mary, — You remember the Japanese 
have a proverb which declares that " he who has not 
seen Nikko has no right to say Kekko." Kekko means 
beautiful. You may have seen Keswick, Heidelberg, 
Venice, Boston, North Andover, and Hingham, but if 
you have not seen Nikko, the Jap does not believe 
you know what beauty is. I do not think he is quite 
right, but Nikko is certainly very beautiful. 

We came up here from Tokyo on Friday, with three 
hours of railroad, to Utsunomiya, and then six hours of 
jolting over the worst of roads, all washed with recent 
rains, with long stops to rest the wretched horses at 
queer tea houses by the way. A most beautiful ave- 
nue of stately trees extends along the whole route, and 
we came into the sacred valley far up among the hills. 
Here are the most splendid temples in Japan. They 
are the great shrines of the heroes of the proud days 
of Japanese history. Their solemn bells are always 
sounding, and the richness of their decoration, the 
mystery of their vast courtyards, and the strange fig- 
ures of their j^riests are most impressive. In Tokyo 
there is much of new Japan. We saw the university, 
the missionary operations, and the electric lights. 
Here it is all mediaeval, and the works of man are as 
venerable as the hills. It is intensely interesting. 

The jinrikisha men finally rebelled at Utsunomiya, 
and would not bring us over the washed and gullied 
road. One could not blame them, but it was incon- 
venient, for we had to take the roughest of carriages, 



362 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

and the horses would not have been allowed to be 
harnessed by any society for the prevention of cruelty 
to beasts. 

Our traveling for these ten days in Japan has been 
a beautiful frolic. We have a capital guide and ser- 
vant, a merry little fellow named Hakodate, who talks 
queer English, does everything that one mortal man 
can do for two others under his charge, and makes us 
very comfortable. He is the best guide, I suppose, in 
the country, has traveled with all sorts of distinguished 
people, and is perpetually proud of the size of the party 
at present in his care. If you come across a little 
French book called " Notes d'un Globe-Trotter, " by a 
Mr. Daudiffret, you will find much about Hakodate 
under the name of Tatzu. Tatzu is his real name, but 
for some unknown reason he goes under the name of 
the town in the north of Japan from which he comes. 
That same French book is a very amusing account of 
much of what we are seeing every day in this delight- 
ful land. 

. . . This Sunday morning is Sunday evening with 
you. I am just going to preach at a service in one 
of the houses here. You are sitting on the piazza. I 
wish I could spend the evening with you, and yet these 
hills are lovely, and so far the climate has been perfect. 
There has been no excessive heat. Now and then a 
bit of an earthquake, they say, but they are so little 
that there is no excitement. 

It seems as if there were all pleasant things, until 
we meet in mid-September. Till then may we all be 
safe and well. My love to all. 

Affectionately, P. 



NIKKO. 363 

NiKKO, Japan, July 22, 1889. 

Dear Johnnie, — I wonder if it rains this morning 
at Marion as it rains at Nikko. The bells of the Bud- 
dhist temples sound through the thick mist, and the 
mountains hide themselves under the clouds, and we 
can see nothing of what everybody says is the most 
beautiful place in Japan. Before it clears I will talkee- 
talkee a little with you. After I left you, Hattie, Dodo, 
and baby at Spring-field, I reached New York safely, 
and the next morning the great trip really began. 
We went on, and on, and at last, on the morning of 
the 8th of July, set foot on the land of the Rising Sun 
at Yokohama. The little Japs were very glad to see 
us. They brought their little jinrikishas down to the 
wharf, and pulled us through their little streets, past 
their little houses, to the big hotel. Ever since that 
they have been as good, civil, and delightful as possible. 
They are the merriest folk alive. Everybody smiles 
all the time. They smile when you speak to them 
and when you do not, when you stop and when you pass 
by, when they understand you and when they do not. 
They meet you with a smile at the steps of their little 
toy tea houses, and though they expect you to take off 
your shoes and enter in your stocking feet, that you 
may not hurt their pretty mats, and you have to sit 
upon the floor in most uncomfortable attitudes, still 
they are so glad to see you, and hand you the chop- 
sticks, with which you are to eat your rice, in such a 
winning way, that you would not offend one of their 
inconvenient little prejudices for all the world. 

The missionaries are good people and are doing ex- 
cellent work. We spent one Sunday in Tokyo, and 
saw Bishop Williams and the mission buildings and one 
of the girls' schools. Most of the schools are in vaca- 



364 A SUMMER IX JAPAN. 

tion for the summer, and manv of tlie missionaries 
are here in tliis mountain place of cool resort. We 
held service yesterday in the house of one of them, 
which belongs to a Buddhist priest, and has the temple 
itself in the side yard. The priest looked at us as we 
went to church, but did not come into our meeting. 
If he had, he might have heard me preach in the morn- 
ing and McYickar in the afternoon. Here, also, is 
your classmate Sturgis Bigelow, who with ]Mr. Fenol- 
losa of '74, and Mrs. Fenollosa, has been living in 
Japan for years. They know the whole thing thor- 
oughly, and since I began this beautiful letter (about 
the middle of the third page) we went with them and 
spent three hours in the Slunto temple of the great 
lyeasu which is the most beautiful thing you ever saw. 
We are o-oino: to dine with them to-nioht. 

About the time vou o-et this, the 21st of Aug^ust, we 
shall sail from Yokohama for San Francisco in the City 
of Rio de Janeii^o, and about the middle of Sej^tember 
I shall be in North Andover. Come and see me there, 
and tell me about your summer, and I will teU you 
all about mine, which is as jolly and queer as anything. 

My love to the babies and Hattie. 

Ever affectionately, P. 

MvAifosHiTA. Japan, July 28, 1889. 

Deae William. — I will put into this letter a 
photograph of this pretty place, where we are spend- 
ing a delightful Sunday. It is far up among the 
hills, and is Swiss-looking in its general mountain as- 
pect. Thursday we left Xikko, after five days among 
its marvels, only made less perfect than they might 
have been by rather too much raui. But they were 
full of interest. Then we came back over a horrible 



MYANOSHITA. 365 

road to Utsonomiya and by rail to Yokohama. Friday 
we took rail to Odza, tlien carriage and jinrikisha to 
this 2)lace. Yesterday we went to Hakoni lake and 
saw most finely Fujiyama, the great mountain of 
Japan. 

The whole way was full of interest, through vil- 
lages, past temples, and by one mighty Buddha carved 
out of solid rock, sitting by the roadside. To-morrow 
we go to Nagaia, then to Kioto, Nara, Osaka, Kobe, 
and by the Inland Sea to Nagasaki, whence we return 
to Yokohama to take the City of Eio home the 21st 
of August. She brought to us this week your letters 
of the 2d of July. . . . All this list of places can give you 
no idea of the perpetual interest of this strange land. 
The Kodak keeps snapping all the time, and I hope 
is getting some pictures which will be interesting. 
Every person in the street, every group upon the 
country road, every shop, and house, and tea house, 
aiid temple is as queer or beautiful as possible, and 
the people are delighted when you tell them to stand 
out in the sunshine to have their portraits taken. 

Hakodate proves a jewel of a guide, and while he 
looks out ludicrously for his own comfort, is very 
careful also for ours, and orders the good native 
Japanese about as if he were a prince. We have not 
suffered from the heat more than we should have done 
on an ordinary White Mountain journey, and though 
the hottest part is yet to come, I have no fear that it 
will be excessive. The rains have bothered us a little, 
but on the other hand have kept the country very 
fresh and green, and the luxuriance is something won- 
derful. Rice fields are sheets of emerald and the 
bamboo groves are like fairy temples. The* lotus is 
breaking into flower, and the low swamps are gor- 



366 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

geous with its great leaves and splendid flowers. 
Just now the talk is of the new Constitution of Japan, 
which goes into operation next winter, and will make 
the country as modern in its government as the United 
States itseK. What will become of the Buddhist 
temples and the picturesque dresses, nobody can tell. 
Already young Japan affects skepticism and trousers, 
but the missionaries will have to set all that right. 
They are doing good work and have the respect of all 
true men here. 

So much for Japan, though one might write about 
it forever. My thoughts rim all the time to North 
Andover. You are about going to bed as we sit here 
writing and waiting for tiffin, which is served about 
one o'clock. I hope there is as cool a breeze blowing 
across the piazza as that which blows through this 
open hall, but I am sure that no such little Japanese 
waiting-maid, in kimono and obi, sits squatting on her 
bare heels in the corner. North Andover is best in 
the long run. My loveliest love to all. 

Affectionately, P. 

Kobe, Japan, Augtist 7, 1889. 
Dear William, — We are here at Kobe after a 
most delightful journey from Myanoshita, from which 
place I wrote you last. The prettiest thing about it 
was the visit to Nara, the old, old capital of Japan, 
and the seat of its most venerable worship. We left 
Kioto after dinner and traveled at night to avoid the 
heat, which was pretty terrible that day. We had 
three jinrikishas, one for each of us, and one for Ha- 
kodate, also one which went ahead with the luggage. 
Each of our jinrikishas had three men, one in the 
shafts and two pulling ahead. We left at seven 



KOBE. 367 

o'clock, and reached Nara at one in the morning, 
thirty-three miles in six hours. The cheerful little 
men went on a steady trot most all the way, and 
seemed as merry as crickets when we arrived. Three 
times we stopped at teahouses and stuffed them full 
of rice, and then trotted off again into the night. It 
was bright moonlight the first half of the way, and the 
stars were splendid when the moon went down. We 
ambled along through rice fields and tea plantations, 
with villages strung along the road and people coming 
out to look at us all night. 

At Nara, the hospitable people of the Japanese 
hotel were looking for us, and soon after our arrival 
we were sound asleep. Here we spent two days, in 
a perfect wilderness of splendid scenery, historical 
association, temple architecture, and curious life. 
There are tame sacred deer in the groves, and tame 
sacred fishes in the lakes. The trees are hundreds of 
years old, and the temples are older. And the beauty 
of the landscape is a perpetual delight. Here we spent 
Sunday. We went to a little missionary chapel of 
our church and heard our service in Japanese, and an 
excellent sermon in the same language by a native 
layman. 

The white missionary in charge was off on his 
summer vacation, like the Rector of Trinity Church, 
Boston. After service, we sat in a tea house over- 
looking the lake, where it was cool. In the afternoon 
we strayed in the great temple groves and saw the 
priests at their curious worship ; all night the drimis 
were beating and picturesque heathenism going on in 
its remarkable way. Next morning early we left for 
Osaka, stopping to visit a most remarkable Buddhist 
monastery on the way. After one brilliant day at 



368 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

Osaka, we came here, and to-morrow leave by- 
steamer for Nagasaki, which will take us through the 
beautiful inland sea, one of the chief glories of Japan. 
That will be the extreme limit of our traveling. 

From Nagasaki we come back to Kobe ; then by 
sea to Yokohama, and after a few excursions from 
that familiar place, we shall be ready for the City of 
Rio two weeks from to-day. After that you know 
what will become of me until I present myself at the 
side door in North Andover. The Kodak is full. I 
cannot find anybody wise enough to change the old 
plates for the new, I cannot make the back come out 
to do it for myself, so I shall bring it home as it is ; 
perhaps some of the hundred snaps which I have 
made may have caught something interesting, which 
the man in Bromfield Street can bring out. 

It is hot, beautiful weather, no hotter, I should say, 
than we often have in Boston, and only slightly, for 
the most part, letting up at night. We are quite well, 
and the weather does not hinder our doing all we wish 
to do ; the country is in beautiful condition, and the 
half-naked folks are brown as berries. And you are 
all well, I most devoutly hope. Letters will come to- 
day, but they will not bring advices very late. My 
love of loves to all of you. 

Affectionately, P. 

KiOGO Hotel, Kobe, August 9, 1889. 
Dear Tood, — The mail came this morning, and 
brought me beautiful letters from your father, mo- 
ther, and you. Before we start for Nagasaki, in the 
beautiful steamer Tokyo-Maru, there is just time to 
write a beautiful line to you, and send these beautiful 
pictures which have just come in from a beautiful 



KOBE. 369 

pliotograplier's shop at the corner of the street. Mr. 
McYickar sends his love to you Avith this, and so 
does Hakodate, who sits in his native fashion on the 
floor at Dr. McYickar' s feet. He is a good, wise 
man, and when you come to Japan you must have him 
for your guide. 

I am glad you are having such a good time at 
North Andover. Look out for me there soon after 
you get this. My loveliest love to all. 

Your loving uncle, P. 

Steamship Wakamoma-^Maku, 
August 13, 1889. 

Dear Gertie, — The Parthia sails this week for 
Yancouver, so there seems to be one more chance 
to send a letter from Japan before we leave, and it 
shall go to you. We are sailing along the southern 
coast, between Kobe and Yokohama, with the pretty, 
hilly shore in clear sight. We should see Fujiyama 
itself if it were not quite so hazy. This afternoon we 
shall be in Yokohama, then we shall probably go off 
into the country to Kamakara and Enoshima, and a 
few other pretty places, for the one short week that 
remains before the " Rio " comes along to carry us 
away from this delightful land. 

Since I wrote the other day, we have been from 
Kobe to Nagasaki and back, sailing twice through the 
Inland Sea. It was very lovely, almost as pretty as 
Lake George itself. The days were warm and breezy, 
the nights had glorious moonlight, and I only mshed 
you were all here to see the pretty sights. Queer 
junks were loimging on the water about us, and 
fimny little villages were on the shore, and curious 
Japanese peoj)le went pattering about the steamer's 



370 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

deck. None of them were as nice or well dressed as 
tlie little girl I send you, seated between her cherry- 
trees, but they were her poorer sisters, and she will 
give you some idea of what looking folk they are. I 
am quite sure I have seen her a dozen times, as I have 
gone in and out of their ridiculous little houses. 

And so this fun is almost over ! In three weeks we 
shall be in San Francisco. ... It will be hard to 
realize that this life, which we have been seeing so 
constantly for these five weeks, will be still going on. 
The priests praying in the temples, the girls chatter- 
ing over their tea, the jinrikishas running round the 
streets, the jugglers performing in their booths, the 
missionaries preaching in their churches, the mer- 
chants squatting in their shops, the women toddling 
with their babies, the boys swimming in the streams, 
and everybody as merry and good-natured as in a 
world of doUs. It will be quite as good to remember 
as it has been to see. 

When you get this, begin to look out for our arrival 
at the Golden Gate, and have the corn barn ready for 
a pleasant little smoke soon after. My best of love to 
everybody. How pretty the piazza at North Andover 
must look this pleasant morning! Good-by, dear 
Gertie. Your affectionate uncle, P. 

Steamship City of Rio de Janeiro, 
August 28, 1889. 

Dear Arthur, — Japan is far behind us. We 
are almost halfway across the Pacific Ocean. Mc- 
Vickar is on deck talking to some English people, 
and I remembered the letter which I was very glad 
to get from you just before I left Yokohama last 
week. I want to answer it, first to thank you for it, 



STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 371 

and then to say how sorry I am that I must not allow 
myself to think of accepting your kind invitation to 
visit Minnequa on my way across the continent. It 
would be a very pleasant thing to do, but I shall not 
much more than get home to Boston for Sunday, the 
22d of September, and I have promised myself to 
preach there on that day. Then I shall have one 
quiet week at North Andover to get my wits and 
clothes in order before I start, on the 2d of October, 
for the great campaign of General Convention. It 
wiU not do to try and get in anything besides, and the 
first that I shall see of you and Lizzie will be when I 
appear at breakfast on the morning of October 3, and 
we go together to the great opening service at St. 
George's. It was very good and thoughtful of you to 
propose the visit, but it must not be. 

This is a good, slow, steady steamer, with a very 
multifarious lot of folk on board, and all is going very 
pleasantly. We shall have two Thursdays this week, 
picking up the lost day which we dropped here in the 
mid-Pacific two months ago. But, in spite of that, 
we shall not be in San Francisco until Friday of next 
week. Then we are going up to Vancouver and home 
by the Canadian Pacific via Winnipeg, St. Paul, and 
Chicago. It has been a great success, — the worst 
thing of the summer being the steamboat ink with 
which I am trying to write this letter. I hope that 
all goes well with you, and that Minnequa is gayety 
itself. Well, well, another winter's work draws very 
near ! 

My kindest love to Lizzie, and counting on much 
talk in October, I am. Affectionately, P. 



372 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 

Steamship City of Eio de Janeiro, 
Pacific Ocean, September 6, 1889. 

Dear Willia3i, — We shall be at 'Frisco to- 
night, then I will send this last letter of the sum- 
mer, which will tell you we are safely across this 
mighty pond, and that I shall be with you before two 
weeks more are passed. We have had a slow voyage, 
because the ship is not a fast one, needs cleaning, and 
has not been pressed. We were also one day late in 
lea^dng Yokohama, owing to the severe storms raging 
in the Cliinese Sea, which were expected to delay 
the steamer in arriving at Japan. The whole voyage 
has been calm and peacefid. For days and days the 
ocean was almost mthout a wave, and at her worst 
the ship has not rolled enough to hurt the weak- 
est traveler. We have about twenty first-class pas- 
sengers, a cui'ious lot, Americans, English, Scotch, 
French, German, Russians, Japanese, and a whole 
lot of queer Chinese in the steerage, who cannot 
go ashore in San Francisco, but will be passed on 
to Mexico and other places which do not yet refuse to 
take in the poor Celestials. The voyage has not been 
dull or tedious, but it will be rather good to go on 
shore early to-morrow morning and telegTaph to you 
that I am safely here. We shall spend Sunday in 
San Francisco, and in the evening start by way of 
Sacramento for Portland and Puget Sound. We 
shall probably arrive in Boston Thursday, the 19th, 
and then for a quiet, delightful week at North Ando- 
ver before the General Convention at New York. 

I hope to hear to-night that all is well with you. If 
I hear that, the summer will be perfect. It is five 
weeks since your last dates, and one cannot help feel- 



STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 373 

ing a bit anxious. I believe all will be well. You 
stall bear from me, by and by, just when I will arrive. 
Until then, be sure that I am anxious to get home, 
and with the best of love to all, count me 

Affectionately your dear brother, P. 



SUMMER OF 1890. 

Lucerne, August 25, 1890. 

Dear Johnnie, — You were mighty good to write 
me such a fine . long letter. Although you will not get 
this answer much before I come myself, I cannot help 
thanking you and sending you all an affectionate 
greeting this rainy morning. It is our first real rainy 
day. The summer has been free from blighting heat 
and blasting tornado, such as has devastated things at 
home. To think of South Lawrence getting all blown 
to pieces ! I read about it in the " Journal de Geneve," 
and trembled for the corn barn. What a pity that 
I have lost your visits to the old house. It must 
have been delightful both for you and for Andover. . . . 

This has been the quietest of little journeys, but 
very pleasant indeed. The streets of London looked 
just as we left them ten years ago, and the great 
white hills were waiting for us in Chamoimix and In- 
terlaken. Of course the people whom we wanted most 
to see were gone from London, for the season was over 
before we arrived, but I had a delightful little visit 
with Tennyson in his home at Aldworth. He has 
grown old, but is bright and clear-headed, and may 
give us some more verses yet. Just after I left Eng- 
land, Newman died, and the pulpit and press have 
been full of laudation and discussion of him ever 
since. He was a remarkable man, by no means of the 
first class, for he never got at final principles nor 
showed a truly brave mind ; but there was great 



LUCERNE. 375 

beauty in his character, and his intellect was very 
subtle. . . . What a wild scene of frivolous excitement 
Marion seems to have been ! I do not wonder that 
you, H. and the childi'en had to take to the water, to 
escape the land. Be sure and all keep well and safe 
till we come back, and then for another year of the 
old familiar, pleasant work. My kindest love to all 
of you. Affectionately, P. 



LAST JOURXEY ABEOAD. 
1892. 

H. M. S. Majestic, June 27, 1892. 

Deae ]VL\ry, — I miss my old companions very 
much indeed. It would be very delightful if you and 
G. were on deck to-day, as I am sure you would be 
if you were on board. The day is delightful, and 
the big ship is going splendidly. She is a magTiificent 
great thing, and could put our dear little Cephalonia 
into her waistcoat pocket. Her equipment is smnptu- 
ous and her sj)eed is something tremendous, but I do 
not know that I like her as well as the old-fashioned 
little boats which seem more homelike, and where one 
knows how to find his way about. . . . Our captain is 
Purcell, who commanded the Adriatic when G., you, 
and I once sailed on her. He has given me the use 
of his deck-room during the day, so I have a lovely, 
quiet time .... Mr. Howard Potter and his family, 
and Dr. and Mrs. Watson of Boston, with whom I 
sit at an extra table in the hall which opens on the 
deck, are about all of whom I see anything. 

Yesterday we had service, and I preached in the 
gTeat saloon in the morning, and in the evening I held 
a service for the second-class passengers, of whom 
there is a multitude. There is no gong for meals, but 
two rosy little sailor boys march through the ship 
with bugles playiug a tune to call us, which is very 
pretty indeed. Wednesday morning we shall get to 



LONDON. 377 

Queenstown, and that night I hope to dine and sleep 
at the Adelphi, where I will eat some mushrooms in 
your honor. Then I go to London, where I shall be 
on Thursday night, and ever so many nights after- 
wards, I trust. It looks very nice, but indeed I should 
not have been disappointed if the Majestic could not 
have taken me, and I had been left in North Andover 
for the summer, as I expected when I saw you last. 
May it be a beautiful summer to you all. . . . 

Yours affectionately and majestically, P. 

Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
July 4, 1892. 

Dear Gertie, — I have the same old rooms, the 
big parlor and bedroom on the second floor ; the boot- 
black boy is across the way, the smiling youth is on the 
sidewalk, the big porter is in the hall, and everything 
is just the way it used to be, only I miss you very 
much indeed, and wish you would take the next 
steamer and come out. You must not take the City 
of Chicago, because she was wrecked, and it would 
not have been nice to clamber up the side of that 
steep rock on a rope ladder. You had better take the 
Cephalonia ; or, if you cannot get her, the Majestic, 
which is a splendid great boat, with a great deal of 
room and all the luxuries of which you can conceive, 
and she comes over in no time. . . . 

All your friends are well and asking after you. I 
dined at Archdeacon Farrar's Saturday night. Lady 
Frances Baillie was there, and so were the Bishop of 
Kochester and his wife ; he used to be Dean of Wind- 
sor, you remember, when we went there once. Yes- 
terday I preached in the morning at St. Margaret's, 
and in the evening at the Abbey, and there were a 



378 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

great many peoj)le in both churclies. And now to-day, 
for I have been out since I began tbis letter this 
morning, I have been running all over town, and last 
of all have been to pay my Fourth of July respects to 
Mr. Lincoln, the American minister. Do you re- 
member when we went to see Mr. Lowell one Fourth 
of July, and you sat all the time in the carriage ? 

There is a splendid new Velasquez at the National 
Gallery. The National Gallery has bought it since 
we were last here, and the people for the first time 
have a chance of seeing it. . . . 

I am going now to dine at Dr. Sewall's, to-morrow 
at the Abbey, Wednesday at Mrs. Synge's, Thursday 
at the Dean's, and so on every day. How is Tood ? 
Everybody is expecting her, and wondering why she 
did not come over this year. They can hardly wait to 
see her. Last Saturday there was a garden party at 
Lambeth Palace, and everybody looked happy, and 
some of them very pretty. Next week I am going to 
see the Tennysons, and the week after I go to see 
our friend the Bishop of Rochester, who is now the 
Bishop of Winchester, and lives at Farnham Castle. . . . 
I am coming home on the Pavonia with Uncle John 
and Aunt Hattie on the 8th of September. Now I 
cannot write any more, but send my love to every- 
body, and am Your affectionate uncle, 

P. 

Westminster PAiiACE Hotel, London, 
July 11, 1892. 

Dear William, — I did not get any time to write 
yesterday, because there was preaching to do all day. 
In the morning, I preached at a great big church in 
Chelsea, and went home to dinner with the minister. 



LONDON. 379 

Then I came back here and went to sleep in the after- 
noon, and had a beautiful time. In the evening, I 
preached at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, a large and 
fashionable church ; went home to supper with the min- 
ister, and found a number of people, quite a Sunday 
evening supper party. ... I am only going to preach 
once more, next Smiday morning, for Haweis, to whom 
I have owed a sermon ever since he preached so re- 
markably in Trinity. When that is over, I shall do 
up the sermons and the Episcopal robes, and not open 
them again mitil I get to North Andover and preach 
for Mr. Walker. 

This morning, I had a long call from Father Hall, 
who looks well and hearty, and seems to be enjoying 
things over here, and to have no thought of coming- 
back to Boston or America. It was pleasant to see 
him again. 

John and Hattie are somewhere in England. I 
heard from John when they arrived at Liverpool, and 
he expects to bring up here next Saturday night. 
They seem to have had a very comfortable and pros- 
perous voyage. Arthur is now upon the ocean, and 
will be here, I suppose, some time near the end of the 
week. McVickar is somewhere on this side, but has 
not yet shown himseK. 

I think I shall go to the Continent on the 25th, two 
weeks from to-day. I do not know where I shall go, 
or what I shall do. I would like to go over the 
Stelvio again with you, and if you will come out we 
will do it. If you do not come, I shall go alone, 
probably as far as Switzerland, perhaps to Venice. . . . 
Yours affectionately, P. 



380 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

London, July 17, 1892. 

Dear William, — ... I have just come back 
from preaching for Mr. Haweis at his church in 
Marylebone, and have promised to take luncheon here 
with Arthur at haK past one, and then go and hear 
Farrar preach at the Abbey at three. Before he 
comes I will begin my Sunday note to you. I am not 
going to preach any more. Next Sunday I shall be 
here with Johnnie, and we will go and hear some of 
the great men whom this big city can supply. 

. . . Yesterday I spent at Lord Tennyson's, going 
down with Farrar in the morning and getting back to 
dinner. The old man was in beautiful condition, 
gentle, gracious, and talkative until he went for his 
snooze, as he called it, after luncheon. He read us 
some of his poetry, and talked about it in the most 
interesting way. Lady Tennyson is a beautiful in- 
vahd, and the young people, Hallam, his wife, and 
children, are delightful. 

We have been to the afternoon service at the 
Abbey, and had a pleasant anthem and a fine sermon 
from Archdeacon Farrar. The whole thing goes on, 
you see, very much after the old fashion, and is very 
good. After another week I shall be glad to be away, 
and then I shall think of you, in Paris and among the 
hills. ... 



Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
July 24, 1892. 

Dear Tood, — . . . Yesterday we were at the 
National Gallery and saw the Botticellis, Giorgiones, 
Tintorettos, Titians, and others. The afternoon be- 
fore, we took a fine drive in the Park and had a 
lovely time. This afternoon we have all been to 



KULM. 381 

Westminster Abbey and beard Archdeacon Farrar 
preacb a fine sermon. Right in the middle of it a girl 
went wild and shrieked at the top of her voice, and 
they had to carry her out neck and heels. Don't ever 
do that, will you ? . . . 

I am going to leave Tuesday morning for the Conti- 
nent. I do not know where I shall go, but I think Dr. 
McVickar will go with me, and we shall find some 
snow mountains somewhere. I am very sorry about 
the electric railway at North Andover, and the trees. 
Perhaps we cannot go there any more after this year. 
Where do you think we had better go ? I went the 
other day to the Bishop of Winchester's. He lives 
at Farnham Castle, an awfully old affair, with keep, 
drawbridge, and dungeons underground, and a park 
of three hundred acres and deer in it. 

D. and B. have grown up to be young ladies, and 
D. sits at the head of her father's table. I am glad 
you are reading so many nice books. You will 
know all about things when you come abroad. How 
are all your friends ? Dear me ! it somids very far 
away, but I shall come home by and by, and we will 
get a few days in the old house together before we 
break up and call the summer done. . . . Good-by, 
my love to all, and I am 

Your dear uncle, P. 

St. Moritz, Engadine, Hotel Kulm, 
August 7, 1892. 

My dear Mary, — ... It has been a very good 

week. Last Sunday we spent at Trouville. That 

means Dr. McVickar and I. Monday we went to 

Paris and put up at the Grand Hotel. It looked very 

bright and familiar, just as it did when G., you, and 



382 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

I were there. You and G. were not there this time, 
for which I was very sorry. 

Tuesday evening we took the Orient Express for 
Munich, the train which you know we thought of tak- 
ing, but did not, from Strasbiu^g to Paris. It was very 
swift and comfortable, and brought us to Munich at 
noon on Wecbiesday. ^"e stayed at the Baierischer 
Hof . . . . Thiu'sdav mornino- we took a ti'ain to Inns- 
bmck, but did not go by the Achensee. As we passed 
Jenbach, we saw they had a railway from Jenbach to 
the Achensee. with queer, tilted-iip cars, like those 
that go up the Pilatus. Friday morning we took the 
rail to Landeck. and then a carriage for a two days' 
drive up the valley of the Inn. which brought us 
here. . . . We slept at the Tyi'oler Hof, where 
A. and L. and G. and you and I were five years 
ao'o. . . . 

This is a glorious place, and the weather is superb. 

"We shall stay here for several days, and then I do not 

know where we shall go. ... I wish you were all here 

this afternoon, for the snow mountains are very 

iine. . . . 

LrcER>TE. Ang-ust 14. 1S92. 

Dear Gertie. — I passed the Eestaurant Titlis 
this morning, and thought of you and the night we 
spent there before they moved us to the pretty Entre- 
sol in the Schweitzer Hof. The Schweitzer Hof now 
is full, and we are lodged. Dr. McVickar and I, in the 
top story of the Lucerner Hof. Last night there were 
the band and the fii-eworks in front of the Schweitzer 
Hof, the old way. . . . 

We came here yesterday over the St. Gotthard 
from Lugano, on the lake of Lugano. There we had 
spent a day, climbing up Monte Generosa by a queer 



INTERLAKEN. 383 

old railway, like that which climbs up the Mount Pila- 
tus, which I can see from my window now, if I almost 
break my neck by twisting round the corner for a 
view. We came to Lugano from Cadenabbia on the 
lake of Como, and to Cadenabbia we had come by the 
Maloja Pass and the beautiful lake from St. Moritz, 
whence I wrote last Sunday; that is thus far our 
journey. . . . 

Oh, I wish you were here, and that we were to go 
over the Brunig to-morrow to Interlaken, M. and you, 
and I. But you can see how it all looks. The lake, 
the boats, the flags, the people, and the hills around 
it. 

I send my best love to you all, and by and by will 
see you at North Andover. 

Yours affectionately and affectionately, P. 

Hotel Victoria, Interlaken, 

August 21, 1892. 

Dear W' \liam, — There is no letter this week, 
from any of you, for which I am very sorry. I hope 
you have not grown tired of me, and given me up 
altogether. 

Do you remember Grindenwald and the Bear Hotel, 
on whose balcony we sat one long afternoon, wait- 
ing for the rain to stop, so that we could ascend the 
Wengern Alp? M. and G. and I went to the same 
Bear Hotel two years ago, and sat in its hospitable 
courtyard, drank coffee, and had our photographs 
taken by a low-spirited practitioner a little way beyond. 
I went over there yesterday to see the ruins. It was 
burnt down on Thursday, the Bear Hotel, the photo- 
grapher's shop, and pretty nearly the whole village, 
a hundred houses in all destroyed, and ever so many 



384 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

wretched peasants thrown out into the cold world. 
It is quite awful. You will never see the Bear Hotel 
again. They have a railway from Grindelwald to the 
Wengern Alp, and down again to Lauterbrunnen, so 
there will be no more pleasant horseback rides across 
the meadows and down the steep descent upon the 
other side. 

It has been a lazy week. I tarried in Lucerne until 
Thursday. The days were hot and lovety. McVickar 
left me on Tuesday and went to Paris, where he must 
have been hot and wretched for the last few days. 
Thursday I took train and came over the Br u nig here. 
Now I am expecting, to-morrow, the 22d, Jolin and 
Hattie. They are at Lucerne to-day, ha^dng reached 
there last Friday. . . . Their time in Switzerland will 
not be very long, but I think they have enjoyed every- 
thing pretty well. You cannot go very wrong in 
Europe. When they have joined me, I think we shall 
go to Thun, Berne, Martigny, Tete Noire, Chamounix, 
Geneva, and so to Paris, where we shall get a few days 
before it is time to go to London, Liverpool, and the 
Pavonia. 

These are sad tidings of the riots and fightings in 
Buffalo and Tennessee. It is good that violence 
should be put down by military force, but that does 
not solve the problem of how the great men are to 
live with the little men, and what is the function of 
government as regards them both. Only time and 
events and the slow progress of mankind will settle 
that. 

Meanwhile, I send you all my dearest love and am 
Ever and always yours affectionately, P. 



CHAMOUNIX. 385 

HoTEii d'Angleterre, Chamounix, 

August 28, 1892. 

Dear William, Mary, Gertrude, Agnes, and 
ToOD, — This is the last letter I shall write to any of 
you on this journey, because next Sunday it will be 
within four days of the sailing of the Pavonia, and it 
will not be worth while to write. This fun is almost 
over. John and Hattie joined me last Monday at In- 
terlaken. 

. . . Tuesday we went to Lauterbrunnen and the 
Trummelbach, and had a fine, bright, sunshiny day. 
Wednesday we loafed about Interlaken all the morn- 
ing, and took the boat and train in the afternoon for 
Berne by Thun. It was not clear when we reached 
Berne, so we did not see the great view of the Alps, 
but saw the bears in their pit. I showed the old 
woman on the terrace the bear which I bought of her 
for fifty centimes two years ago and have carried in 
my pocket ever since, which pleased her simple soul 
very much indeed, and pleased mine more. She 
thought it very pretty of me to have taken such fond 
care of it, and she offered to make it brown and young 
again for nothing. But I did not want her to do that, 
and told her I would bring it back again in two years 
more to see her. 

We went back to the Berner Hof for dinner, and 
in the evening to a Beer Garden and heard music. 
Thursday it rained hard, but we came to Martigny by 
rail, and after we reached there in the afternoon it 
was pleasant enough for us to take a drive and see the 
Gorge de Trient. Friday we drove over the Tete 
Noire. It was a beautiful day, and the views were 
prettiest and best. Saturday the mountains were as 
clear as clear could be, so we are lucky. 



386 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 

An Oxford professor tried to go up Mont Blanc 
Thursday in the storm, and died of exhaustion. Yes- 
terday, through the telescope in the hotel yard, we 
could see them bringing his dead body down over the 
snow, and I suppose it arrived here late last night. 

The only high ascent made by our party, and that 
was entirely successful, w^as John's going with a mule 
and a guide to the Montanvert, crossing the Mer de 
Glace, and coming down by the Mauvais Pas. The 
journey was accomplished without any accident, and 
the climber reached the hotel about three o'clock in 
the afternoon, not much fatigiied. 

To-morrow we go to Geneva (Hotel de la Paix), 
and the next day shall take the long, tiresome ride to 
Paris ; after that you know about what will happen 
to us, until you find us in your arms again. . . I am 
very well indeed, thank you, and shall be glad to see 
you all again. Yours most affectionately, P. 



